


Time Traveler's Playlist By M. Stilinski

by FandomShuffle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dark Gladers, Dialogue Heavy, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Gaslighting, Good Alpha Peter Hale, Left Hand Minho (Maze Runner), Made Up Packs, Manipulation, Multi, Newt is a Scamander, Ocs as background characters - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Additonal Ship Tags to be Added, Right Hand Gally (Maze Runner), Romance, Slow Burn, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Thomas (Maze Runner), The Gladers Are Not Nice In This One, Werewolf Frypan, Werewolf Gally, Wizard Newt, werewolf Minho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 206,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomShuffle/pseuds/FandomShuffle
Summary: They've survived the Maze and the Scorch. They failed in finding a cure. They are now back in time to save the world. WIll they have the time to live, too?(Alternate Title: They Made a Song About This)
Relationships: Chris Argent/ Newt (Maze Runner), Frypan (Maze Runner)/Allison Argent, Gally (Maze Runner)/Isaac Lahey, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 185
Kudos: 276





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Playlist del Viajero del Tiempo de M. Stilinski](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662770) by [AnnySakuraRuiz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnySakuraRuiz/pseuds/AnnySakuraRuiz)



> As written in the tag, this is a Crossover & Fandom Fusions. So, yes. Teen Wolf x Maze Runner x Harry Potter. This is inspired by Thomas Brodie-Sangster's interview wherein it was mentioned that he auditioned for Harry Potter. I was planning to write something simple and fun, then I word vomited while writing and the first chapter is just massive-it's only the opening. I had to decide whether to continue with the idea or just let it rot in my laptop. I decided to go on with it since I haven't read anything like this before and thought -hey, why not? I might not be the only one who wants this kind of Crossover & Fandom Fusions.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that took the chance to read this. Yeah, it's weird. I know. Updates would be like the usual which is once a month -unless there's any unforeseen problems came my way. This is long already, so I'm going to cut to the chase.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I did proofread it. If there are still mistakes, please do pardon them. On to the story...

“I’m going to die.” Newt’s drawling out the words with black goo slipping from his mouth. “You’re going to die. All the supernatural will die. Magic will die—heck! The whole world is going to die.” He swiped the goo off his chin with a grimace. “Does it matter if we accidentally blow our brains out if we don’t do this ritual correctly?”

Ever since Beacon Hills –for the lack of a better word, imploded on itself he had taken on a different name. It was partly for his protection, but mostly it’s in hope that he would have the chance to move on. The thing is, he planned on moving on after helping to resolve the issue with the virus that came from Beacon Hills. Now, moving on is an impossible task—as Newt has mentioned, the world is going to die.

His name doesn’t matter anymore if they are all going to die.

He looked up at his companions. They all have gotten to know each other very well over the trials that they have overcome. From the Maze to the Scorch until the very end when they were mixing both science and magic to find a cure. If they are going to die trying one crazy idea, he might as well die being open and honest towards them. It’s only right.

“Since we’re going to do this, there is something you have to know.” He let out a heavy sigh as all eyes focus on him. “My name isn’t Thomas.”

Newt rolled his eyes at him. Minho’s eyes widen—just a fraction. Gally looked like he had enough of his bullshit to last a lifetime and couldn’t believe that he is signing up for more of it in the next. Fry—sweet Fry, is waiting for him to continue what he’s about to say.

“This virus originated in Beacon Hills.” He started explaining. “That’s where I was from—I grew up there and was basically at the very center of this whole ordeal.”

“Of course, you would be,” Gally commented dryly.

Newt’s brows went up a centimeter or two as he tilted his head to the side. “Are you saying that you were part of the supernatural community of Beacon Hills? The same community that fucked up so bad, they sent the whole world in a tizzy spin?”

Minho scoffed at that. “This is Thomas we’re talking about—or not Thomas, either way, I’m sure that he’s smart enough to call out the McCall pack on their bullshit.”

Fry let out a considering hum between his lips.

“Scott McCall was my best friend—“

“This is perfect.” Newt’s eyes were alight with something he has never seen before.

Now, he would be honest, he dreaded Newt’s reaction above everyone else. No matter what the others say, he knows that it is Newt that keeps them all glued together. He was hoping that Newt will be accepting of him, but he didn’t dare dream that Newt would find this revelation anything more than just theatrics.

Newt, having sensed that the rest is not catching up on what he has in mind explained. “If Thomas—or not Thomas, is at the center of it this, all we have to do is go to him and manipulate the variables from there.”

Fry mouthed the word variable as if it’s a foreign concept to him. Minho was nodding approvingly. Gally has an expression that says he’s willing to give it a go, but his eyebrows furrowed. “But—wait, it was never mentioned that the McCall pack had any Spark in their ranks.”

He swallowed hard. “It’s because I wasn’t part of the pack.”

Minho’s confused expression matched everyone else’s. “What?”

“When Scott was bitten, he placed the blame on me. He never got over it and never embraced the wolf in him. It’s why—it’s why they failed to protect Beacon Hills. The pack was…fractured from the very beginning.”

“That’s stupid.” Gally pointed out. “It doesn’t matter if you’d somehow turned him into a chicken, being what you are, you’re already the best line of defense.”

“Scott’s not the brightest crayon in the box.” He admitted. “And, the diagnosis that I’m a Spark was just revealed after the Scorch.”

“So, we go back earlier from the night he’s supposed to be bitten.” Newt decided and the rest of them nodded their agreement. “What year was that? If you can be exact, that’ll be better.”

He rambled on the date embedded just at the very forefront of his mind. “January nine twenty-eleven.”

“Good.” Newt wrote it down as he grabbed a ritual knife and stood at the center of the ritual circle they have made. “I’ll send us all back a month before this date. That will give me time to collect everyone else before heading to Beacon Hills. As soon as we’re all together, we’ll start formulating a more solid plan. I’m assuming that everyone else is using their real names?”

He couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Newt always has a way to lighten his load. “Once you get to Beacon Hills, look for Stiles Stilinski.”

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Gally half mocked and half wondered.

“Better than my real name.” He answered in reflex.

“How many names do you have?” Fry asked in a teasing tone.

He stared at his friends for a moment. “You guys are never going to let this go any time soon, are you?”

“I might slip and call you Thomas now and then,” Minho said with his signature smirk.

“I’m sticking to Greenie.” Gally crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’ll always be my Tommy.” Newt brandished the knife and Stiles held out his hand—ready for the cut.“Blood of a Spark for the purest of magicks, willingly given…”

With that, they started the ritual to travel back in time.

* * *

Minho vaguely remembers the start of the spread of the virus. He’s snatched glances of updates about it in the news before he heads to school. Like everyone else, they didn’t pay much attention to it. The government said that they had it all under control and they have other things they have to worry about.

He remembers when the news of the virus having a magical origin reached the Alpha of their pack. Calls were made for them to understand the effects of the virus. They were assured that the wolves are still safe from it. The pack mostly worried over their human members.

The news of the second strand of the virus came out the same day a new creature was discovered in the magical community. The werewolves that got infected died and resurrected with changed appearance. There was no sign of any kind of higher thinking. They were no longer werewolves—they were called Grievers, all base instincts, and predatory skills.

With the appearance of the Grievers, it became impossible for the supernatural community to stay hidden. The show was taken over by the Hunters. With the Hunters’ discriminative stance against any supernatural and Grievers, it was easy to demonize the rest of their community and be hunted. The humans who run with packs, who can do magic and merely sympathize with the supernatural were dubbed traitors and hunted as well.

The government was backing Hunter's activities and funding ways to find the cure. Soon they started to realize that those who used to run with packs and do magic have a higher tolerance against the virus. That’s when they were started being captured and experimented on.

They were put in the maze, the scorch, and any other scenarios and simulations to see what in their biology makes them different. If they can harness it in some way to give the world the cure it so badly needs. Trials and testing continued, and the population drop doubles with each passing day before they realized that science alone wasn’t enough—they’d need magic, too.

There were very few magic users that were still alive—let alone willing to cooperate with the government. The magic users—furious yet wise agreed for the sake of the world. Despite their best efforts, the cure is still nowhere in sight.

There are a handful of people, Newt was the last Wizard, Thomas was an untrained Spark, and there are no more weres. They were the last of the last and they are desperate. They started considering other options that are improbable.

Newt found a very dark ritual that would send them back in time. They didn’t need much convincing to do it if Minho would be honest. If they would die, at least they would die trying. Perhaps a part of Minho was expecting that they would die. That could be the reason why he felt incredibly off-balanced when he woke up in his room in two thousand eleven.

Even though they didn’t talk about it, Minho knows that he would need to keep up pretenses as to not alarm his family. He found it a bit difficult, the first three days. He was constantly asked if he has any problem or if something was bothering him. He chalked it up to school problems and he was left alone to figure things out on his own. He became very thankful that both his family and pack value privacy. He doesn’t know how he would have fared if they kept on prodding at him.

Two weeks into the past, the doorbell of their house rang echoed and Minho was the one closest to the door. ‘I’ll get it!’ He yelled in Korean. He opened the door and saw three familiar faces.

Newt smirked at him. “You ready to go on a road trip?”

“Really?” He asked good-humoredly. “I’m the last one you picked up?”

“Yeah, you slinthead.” Newt snorted as he invited himself and the rest of the group inside. “If you have to know, I woke up at my boarding school in Scotland. The signature of Tommy’s magic was carried with me and it worried a lot of people, let me tell you. I basically got interrogated by Aurors and Unspeakables and ended with me having tea with the Minister of Magic and Lord Potter. It was quite a hassle but helped in the long run.”

The group was eyeing the place intently as Minho led them towards the living room. He didn’t understand half of the words Newt said but he got the main gist of it. “How so?” He asked.

Newt smiled at him. “I’m given a license to do anything that is needed to stop the virus from even forming with the backing of the magical community that I came from. It doesn’t matter if I’m in another country since my people are very intent on seeing magic survive. The Ministry of Magic is working on reaching out to other magical communities and inform them of what’s going to happen—or what’s not going to happen. It depends a lot on the perspective.”

“Minho,” they call turned towards the lady that just entered the room. “You didn’t say anything about your friends coming over.” His mother’s English was coated with an accent.

“Good afternoon, madam.” Newt was the first to greet Minho’s mother. “We won’t stay long. We’re just consulting Minho about some school projects.”

Minho’s mother smiled at that—always delighted to know that her son is doing well in school. Guilt churned on Minho’s stomach. “I’ll tell your father about your friends and get you some snacks.”

They all watch her head to the kitchen. Minho turned back to his friends. “How did you explained this to your parents and pack?”

“We didn’t,” Gally spoke up. “Newt erased their memories of us.”

Fry shrugged. “Seemed to be the easier way, you know. They wouldn’t have to worry about us.”

Minho sighed.

“Don’t worry.” Newt patted his shoulder. “The memories will be retrievable. The Minister of Magic taught me how to do it. She said something about doing it herself back when her family’s life was in danger.”

Thoroughly thinking about it, Minho would rather his family and pack forget about him and live than the alternative of them remembering and dying. All of them were subconsciously aware that they would have to make difficult decisions once they get back in time. They know that all of it would be a detriment in saving the world and every living being in it. Minho is certain that his family and pack would understand—they have been protecting their area for generations and it’s a thankless job, sacrifices have to be made.

He turned towards Newt. “Let me just grab my bag.”

* * *

Being back is a surreal experience, though Stiles would admit that it’s a real eye-opener. He’s been back for at least three weeks and no one seems to notice anything wrong with him. He’s starting to ask himself if he had just gotten so good at lying that no one could even tell that he’s not a mere sixteen-year-old boy anymore—that he is not the same Stiles they knew. Or, no one cared enough to take notice and that’s just depressing.

Though, he would admit that it’s nice to be Stiles again. He’s starting to think that even without magical attachments, names have powers. When he was posing as Thomas, there’s a certain level of gloom and doom that hangs at every cell of his being. Thomas has seen shit no normal person should ever see and survive the worst of it. Stiles on the other hand –while got entangled with the dark side of the supernatural, will always carry humor that somehow lightens up a load of any trying situation.

Seeing Scott again—it made Stiles mentally recoil. His best friend whom he thought wouldn’t ever do anything wrong due to the goodness of his heart. The Alpha of Beacon Hills that denies the wolf inside of him. The boy who wants to protect the ones he loves but not prepared to make the hard calls. Stiles never knew that a person could have such a conflicting personality.

He honestly didn’t know how he got through the first day he hangs out again with Scott. It felt like he worked on autopilot. He laughed, he joked, and he made witty banter that’s age-appropriate.

The same can’t be said when he laid his eyes on his dad, though. He had to mentally remind himself to be the Stiles before he figured out all the supernatural crap. He has to flail more, talk fast, and high—which isn’t much of a hardship considering. When he was caught staring too intently, he made a show of being hesitant and asked for something he knew his father wouldn’t allow him to have. He did a little whining—as he usually does, but didn’t push too hard.

Stiles laid out carefully made excuses to have a day to reorient himself without having to worry about Scott. The holiday was the perfect excuse—saying something about wanting to look for a decent gift for his father, Scott, and Melissa. He took his jeep and drove around Beacon Hills. He doesn’t know what exactly is his reason for going on a drive—he’s not looking for anything either. Perhaps it was all in a fit of nostalgia or maybe it was his Spark alerting him of his friends’ arrival.

On the side of the open road, smoke can be seen on the hood of a broken-down car. He saw a light brown wind sweep hair next to an overly tall teen with judging eyebrows. A few meters off the road, an Asian kid gesturing with a thumbs up and an African American teen holding up a sign. Stiles couldn’t help the bark of laughter that erupted from his throat as he pulled over. It seems like his Spark knew that his friends needed help.

He knew he was spotted when he saw Minho’s eyes turn into crescent lines on his face with his lips stretched to a smile. “What the klunk, guys?” He approached them and was quickly enveloped into a hug by both Minho and Fry.

“Oh, man, is it good to see you again, Thomas.” Minho placed some distance between them with a pat on his shoulder.

“We’ve been here for like an hour,” Fry informed him.

“Well, we wouldn’t have a broken down car if someone just listened to me when I said we should have taken a pick-up.” Gally’s usual attitude made an appearance. God, Stiles never thought that he’d miss it. They greeted each other by gripping the other’s forearm and an acknowledging nod instead.

“Slim it,” Newt said to Gally. Stiles didn’t wait for Newt to even get his bearings before taking him pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. “Missed us, Tommy?”

Upon hearing Newt’s endearing nickname for him, Stiles let out a breath that he never knew he was holding in. He had seen incredible horrors in his life and he never doubted the reality of it all—not for one minute, but waking up in a scarless body and surrounded by people he hasn’t seen in years made him question his sanity for a moment. Now here, in his arms and around him, are the proof that they did manage to travel back in time.

He let go of Newt and saw that his friend understood. “We’re here. We’re rewriting history. We’ll succeed.”

Stiles let out a huffing laugh. “You sound so sure, Newt.”

“You led us through the maze, out of the scorch, and did your best in giving us almost all of your magic while we were researching for a cure,” Newt assured him. “If there’s anyone who could make the impossible happen it’s you with us as your team. We traveled through time, didn’t we?”

Stiles couldn’t help but feel touched at those words. He sniffled and rubbed at his eyes roughly. “You really give the best speeches.”

Gally rolled his eyes at them. “Are we just going to stand here like some klunk heads or are we going to look for a place to stay for the night?”

“Get your stuff.” Stiles inclined his head to the side, gesturing to his jeep. “It would be a tight fit, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

Gally let out a pained groan. “Does anybody here have a reasonable taste when it comes to cars? This jeep looks like its seconds away from exploding.”

“Hey!” Stiles felt the same urge he did back then. “This is my baby. You show her some respect.” That got Minho and Fry laughing as they move their bags. With his friends, Stiles found himself smiling for real.

* * *

Beacon Hills. Newt couldn’t believe that this is the town that sent the supernatural and Wizarding world spiraling down. The place—so painfully simple and unassuming, with equally insipid and cannot be bothered public. How in Merlin’s saggy balls did this place reveal thousands of years’ well-kept secrets?

He’s aware that he’s going to have to investigate everything supernatural and magic around the area. Newt’s not that worried, he has his team with him. Though, he is a bit worried asking Tommy about the events that he remembers.

Newt can tell that there has been a significant change that happened for Tommy to let go of his real name and take on a different one. He can already see glimpses of how Tommy came to be, but he doesn’t know if it is a conscious or unconscious act. It’s probably the latter because Tommy still looks at them with protectiveness and a silent promise of making things better.

They step inside a diner—as Tommy called it. The post-apocalyptic life with muggles didn’t help much with his muggle vocabulary since there have been major changes in society and therefore the language. They all sat at the corner. It wasn’t long before a waitress approached them to take their order.

“So, what’s good in this place?” He asked no one in particular as he read the options on the menu. Soda-float? He has no idea what that is. Tommy pulled the menu from his hand and he gave his friend a raised brow.

“We’re having extra cheesy cheeseburgers with all the curly fries,” Tommy informed the waitress and the woman has an indulgent smile playing on her lips. Newt can tell that Tommy is a regular at the place.

“What’s a curly fries?” He asked and found five pairs of eyes staring at him. He felt defensive. “What? I’m new in this country.” He thickened his accent and Gally snorted loudly.

“Drinks?” The waitress asked.

“Milkshake and water for each.” Tommy smiled up at her. It’s a bigger smile than they use to see on his face. It’s a little disarming.

“Five cheeseburgers with all the curly fries, milkshake, and water for drinks coming right up.” They watched her walk away and Newt was quick to draw a notice-me-not spell around them.

“Woah.” Tommy breathed out—sensing the burst of Newt’s magic. “What was that?”

“Notice-me-not so that we won’t be disturbed and no one would hear what we’re talking about,” Newt explained. “So, what have you been up to lately?”

Tommy leaned back. “Not much—just pretending to be my usual self that they remember which has been freakishly not that hard. How about you?”

Newt gave the same story he gave everyone else—how he woke up with Spark magic residue, getting interrogated, and having tea with the most powerful people of magical Britain. He can tell that most words are flying over Tommy’s head but he understands enough to ask appropriate and smart questions in Newt’s story-telling.

“What does that make you?” Minho asked all of a sudden. “I’m guessing that Auror and Unspeakable are –like, job titles. What’s your job title?”

Newt sighed. “My position doesn’t have a title at the moment since we’re veering into unprecedented territory. Time Travel is somewhat common in my community—it’s usually used for school.” He saw Fry’s disbelieving look at that. “But, those just lasts for a few hours with rules and guidelines surrounding the whole thing—even then it was banned. I should be put into Azkaban for what I pulled—“

“What’s an Azkaban?” Fry asked.

“It’s magical prison.” He answered. “The ritual we did was dark and illegal, no has done this type of time travel on this scale. If we weren’t desperate, they wouldn’t hesitate on giving me the Dementor’s Kiss.”

“I’m guessing that Dementors are bad because there is no teenager who would say no to a kiss.” Tommy’s eyes squinted at him in silent question at which he nodded an agreement. Their discussion was put into a pause as the waitress serve them their food. They each say their thanks before diving back into their discussion.

“Dementors are creatures that can suck people’s souls—when they do, it’s called a kiss. I guess its muggle equivalent to a death sentence.” He took a bite of an odd-looking sandwich and hum in delight. He hardly noticed the incredulous stares going around.

“That’s a cheeseburger,” Fry informed him. “At the side of the plate is the curly fries.”

Newt held one at eye level before popping it inside his mouth. He was chewing as he spoke up. “Good that.”

“I knew you would like curly fries.” Tommy cheered. “It’s the food of the Gods.” He shoved a ridiculous quantity of fries inside his mouth as he said it.

“Disgusting, Greenie,” Gally said as they all start digging in.

“What’s your cover stories?” Tommy asked them. “This is a small town, people know right away who is new and questions are asked. Four teens without parental supervision are going to be a talk of this town just because most people have more spare time than they should have.”

“We could make it look like we’re sons of ambassadors,” Gally suggested. “Our parents decided to send us to a relatively quiet town to finish our studies without being disrupted by the constant moving. We’ll just need someone to inform some form of authority to make it seem legit—probably a guidance counselor, but we’re not advertising it. Let tongues wag, it should never be denied nor confirmed for our safety.”

Tommy shrugged one-shouldered. “That could work, we could also add my dad into the talk with the guidance counselor—wherein one of you guys would mention casually that you’ve met me. That would make them encourage you guys to befriend me. Who is going to act as your guardian?”

“I have someone in mind,” Newt said as he wiped the grease off his fingers. “I’ll send them a letter. Do you have any plan on how we’re going to prevent the destruction of this place, and in the long term of the world?” He asked Tommy and could understand why he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“We’re going to have to visit a catatonic patient,” Tommy answered all too ominously for Newt’s taste.

* * *

Peter can hear the telltale sign of a door opening and closing. Being in a state of catatonia, he could only extend the rest of his working senses to get a feel of the person that entered his hospital room. In this case, it’s ‘persons’.

Their footsteps were light—he has a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t supposed to be in his room. Their smell—one smelled like grass and herbs on top of ink and paper, the other smelled like the preserve in the morning after the rain. Both were giving off a fizzing sensation in the air, one was more controlled than the other, though there’s a purity in the wildness of the other one.

“So, this is Peter Hale.” One of them spoke out loud—Peter noticed the English accent. “He’s a well-known Left Hand, do you think he’d fare well as an Alpha?”

“At his current mental health, I wouldn’t trust him with a toothpick but if we manage to heal him—there’s potential. He knows how a pack should work, he knows how to make a difficult decision, he’s smart enough to be diplomatic, and he’s a pool of supernatural knowledge and charismatic enough to get people to do as he bids.”

The other man spoke with such conviction that Peter had to wonder if they had met before.

“Well, shank, careful—your crush is showing.”

There’s a snort. “You probably shouldn’t speak so freely around him, too. He may be in a coma but there’s a chance he’s conscious right now and listening to us.”

“What’s the plan?”

“We eliminate his nurse Friday night.” The other man decided. “After that, we heal him over the weekend. I’ll get the others to procure us an Alpha and give dear Peter the Alpha juice that he’d need to protect this place.”

“As simple as that, huh?”

“You know I don’t like complicating things.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t attract complicated things.”

There was a sound of retreating footsteps, and the door once again opening and closing. Peter was left there to stew about what he had just heard. He knows he’s mad—but these people planning on making him an Alpha, they seem to be crazier than he is.

Still, there’s confidence in their tone that suggests that they would make it happen—hell or high water. It almost fills Peter with giddy excitement, but he wouldn’t dare trust these strangers completely. He’s mad—not stupid.

The week progressed on with the same nightmare, the same pain, and the same humiliation under the hands of his nurse. It felt longer if he’d permit himself to be honest, as he waits for the two strangers to come back. He almost convinced himself that the interaction was completely made up by his mind in desperate need of help. But, Saturday morning came and his nurse didn’t. Maybe he didn’t imagine it after all.

After an agonizing wait, the fizz in the air returned. The accented man started murmuring words that Peter couldn’t completely hear—nor understand. The fizz seemed to thicken around the room. It’s almost clogging his senses and heighten it both at the same time.

“Peter…” The man with a familiar drawl called out to him. “We don’t know if you can hear us, but we’re here to help you—heal you. My friend here has a potion that would aid your werewolf healing—also settle your mind. It won’t repair the broken bonds because there’s nothing that can heal that, but it would give you your sanity back—enough that you can make level headed decisions. Just…try not to freak, okay?”

Peter felt a hand guiding his head—inclining it just enough to get the opening of the vial of the potion into his mouth. There’s a light tap on his chest—from the weight of the object, he’d hazard a guess that it’s a stick. Whatever it was, it helped him in swallowing the potion that was tipped into his mouth.

The effect of the potion was instantaneous. He felt his cells quicken their pace in healing him—at a speed unlike he’s ever experienced. The fog in his mind was also being lifted, the memories of the fire becoming distant enough for him to be able to think through it. His thoughts were clearer, the need for revenge is still there but his entirety isn’t being consumed by it. The emotions brought about by pain was slowly being pushed aside for more rational thinking.

There’s a rasped breath. He was relieved that it came from him. He was able to take in a deep breath—actually open his mouth and gulp in large amounts of air and let it out with a heavy exhale. He opened his eyes and saw two faces just hovering a few meters from his own.

He took in the sight of his healers. It was jarring to see that they were just teenagers. Still, from the power that they are exuding, Peter knows that they are not to be scoffed at. “Gentlemen, I appreciate you giving me back my strength and sanity but I do believe you have me at a disadvantage.”

The one with the shaved hair and brown eyes turned towards the one with the wild light brown locks. “You didn’t tell me the potion would also heal the scars. How is he going to explain that to people?”

“He won’t have to.” Peter took note that the blond is the one with the accent. “We can give him a talisman or write some runes on his skin for glamour. With your blood, it’ll be an unbreakable one.” He addressed Peter. “I’m Newt Scamander, second of my name. This is Stiles Stilinski, first of his—I imagine.” Peter likes the no-nonsense attitude, though he does wonder about the strange names.

The other one—Stiles wore a serious expression as he continued. “We need you to be the Alpha of Beacon Hills. The Nemeton is calling out to a lot of different supernatural creatures and protection is needed, if they’re not stopped—well, let’s just say that there would be dire consequences, starting with the hunters.”

He took a moment to take it all in. “I’m listening.”

* * *

He would admit—begrudgingly that he’s not smart, at least not as smart as Thomas or Newt. He would also admit that his act first before thinking mentality got him in more trouble than he can count. While he isn’t as impulsive as he was before, he couldn’t say that he had developed that level of caution inside the maze.

When Gally found out about the supernatural—it was an accident. He was coming home from school, basically minding his own business when he heard a pained noise coming from the woods. Now, while he admits to being impulsive, he was also taught by his father to lend a helping hand whenever possible. Obviously, if there’s someone in the woods who is making pained noises they need help. And so help he was willing to give.

He leaned his bicycle on a tree and entered the rich forest of his hometown. He followed the noise until he found a small girl crouching between the roots of a tree. He called out to the girl and the wariness that she had shown him was reasonable. It took a bit of coaxing before the girl came out of her hiding spot and tell him that she was being followed by a rogue wolf.

Hearing that there is a wolf in the forest alarmed Gally greatly. So, he picked up the little girl and started heading back to his bicycle. He plans on stopping by the police station to report the girl’s case and possibly stay with her until her parents pick her up.

Gally was riding away from where he found the girl when a rumbling sound came from somewhere in the forest. He tried speeding up but it was all for naught. In a blink of an eye, he was laid out flat on his back—aching. The sound of the crying girl got him pushing himself up from the ground and seeing a wolf –a werewolf.

He didn’t know how he managed it –with his limbs aching, but he picked up the girl once again and started running away from the werewolf half-aware that he might not even be fast enough to outrun it. A snarling sound echoed all over and he didn’t look back. He didn’t know where his feet are planning on taking them, all he knows is that they needed to getaway.

A river up ahead made him come to a halt. He was panting and sweating as he tried to calm down the crying girl in his arms. Heavy footsteps can be heard along with unworldly animalistic sounds. Gally looked around—trying to find something that he can protect them with. A grabbed a sharp pointed rock as the rustling of the leaves grew closer.

Between the shades of green came a spot of black and brown. A woman appeared before them as naked as the day she was born. If it weren’t for the werewolf running after them, Gally would have looked away but he has a little girl in need of protection. The werewolf could be this woman.

“It’s okay.” She held up her hands—they were bloodied and Gally knows that everything is far from okay. But, the girl in his arms made a squeaking noise as she turns around. Upon seeing the naked woman, the girl squirmed on his arms—silently requesting to be let go.

Gally crouched down and let the girl run towards the woman. The relief was written all over the woman’s face. There’s a hint of gratitude in her eyes. Remembering himself, Gally took off his shirt and offered it to the woman as he looked away to the side. The woman let out a laugh as if he’s the silliest thing she has ever seen in her life.

He would never forget that day—nor the days that followed. Gally, for his protection of the Alpha’s pup, was introduced to the supernatural. He was welcomed into their fold and taught how he can protect himself through various weapons including guns.

He had a rough start but he grew competent over time—enough that when he was brought to the maze, he used his skills to protect the rest of the Gladers. His protective streak didn’t lend much for being liked, but he didn’t care about that. He cared more about keeping everybody safe. He doesn’t want to fail the second time around.

Now, tying up the rogue Alpha that Thomas told them to snatch, he hopes that his third chance of keeping everyone safe would be successful. He’s ready to do everything to make sure everyone gets to live and not suffer the damn flare. If it means taking the bite from an Alpha not his own, then so be it.

He holstered his gun safely and turned towards Minho and Fry. “How are we going to open the case again?”

“Uh.” Fry laid down the suit and used a flashlight to see the labels on the switch-lock. “He said to just switch it from Muggle-worthy.”

“I don’t understand half the klunk he says.” He dragged the unconscious Alpha.

“Guys, there’s a staircase leading inside and down the suitcase.” Fry’s tone wasn’t alarmed—but it wasn’t excited either.

Gally sighed heavily. “Minho, go in and check if there’s anything harmful inside.”

“Why me?” Minho poised to get inside the case even as he whines.

“You’re the fastest, if klunk goes down you’ll be able to get out of it faster than the rest of us.” Gally felt the Alpha stir and he tightened the chain laced in what Newt called aconite and Thomas called wolf’s bane. If he wasn’t used to the craziness that is their life, Gally would probably have a splitting headache already.

* * *

Stiles took a moment to just stare at Peter. There have been moments in his previous timeline wherein he thought about how things could have been different if they have a different Alpha leading them. Scott did his best in doing what he thought was for the good of everybody. His former best friend would only kill if push comes to shove—and the shove has to be a hard one.

It took Stiles a short time to understand that to be an effective protector, one has to be preemptive—on both diplomacy and violence. Experience shouldn’t be shirked at either, and knowledge is valuable. The headache of Derek tricking Scott on how he could regain his humanity is something that could have been avoided if they took the moment to ask the right people with the right questions.

There’s no denying it now. Beacon Hills would benefit from having Peter as its protector. And hey, Scott did name the man just that—too bad Peter had to die fight before he got the title. Well, Stiles can make sure that Peter would be known just as, maybe even more. Definitely more.

Now, he has to decide how much he can share with Peter. Time travel seemed just too fantastical. The apocalypse, just as much. The unbalanced magical signature in Beacon Hills that calls out to dangerous supernatural, believable.

“It’s obvious that Newt and I aren’t the usual teenagers.” He let his personality as Stiles be his mask. “Newt here is sent by Magical Britain to…investigate magical signatures and supernatural creatures here in Beacon Hills. While me—well, think of me as some sort of guide and some mitochondria to aid him in his endeavors.”

Peter tilted his head to the side. “I’m guessing that the…absence of Hale Pack disrupted the supernatural in the area. You could have called my niece instead of going through this whole...convoluted process of healing me.”

Stiles hummed beneath his breath. “She abandoned her post as the protector of Beacon Hills. The land wouldn’t recognize her as the rightful Alpha of this land. There’s a reason why heirs are given the chance to roam around before taking the Alpha spark. The moment they receive it, they become the protectors of the land—and if they leave the moment they got it, in the eyes of the land they’re no better than some rogue Alpha. Even if they return.” He paused to let the information settle over Peter. “You’re the only Hale that the land would accept as Alpha.”

“The only Hale…”Peter pointed out—of course, he would. “But that doesn’t mean I’m the only possible Alpha that the land would accept.”

“True.” Stiles nodded towards his direction. “But, a new pack would mean new treaties—treaties that take up so much time before being drawn up. The Hale Pack already has well-respected treaties with different packs from different places. It’s respected so much that even when the only Hale member left was in an injured state they did not move against you—or your remaining family despite their misgivings.”

Peter let out a mirthless laugh. “Misgivings? Is that how you see the abandonment?”

He shrugged as he took note of Peter’s mental state. Perhaps another dose of Newt’s potion would benefit the older man. “They’re young, they’re stupid. Another reason why we want you to have Alpha-hood. Experience and knowledge. This place needs someone hardened and far from gullible.”

“You mean someone who can handle blood in their hands and live with it.” Peter dared.

“If we don’t get our hands dirty, it only means we’re not doing our job right.”

Peter was in contemplation. Stiles can see him weighing his words and running both pros and cons in his mind. “What are your conditions?”

“I can’t call it conditions, since it would benefit you more than us.” Stiles can see the distrust in Peter’s eyes. It’s understandable but a part of him longs for the fond look he was given before Peter sacrificed himself. He never did understand it—not completely. “We’d like to be a part of your pack.”

“The two of you?”

“There’s three more.” Newt finally spoke up. “They are all human. When you decide to take the Alpha-hood, they would be your Betas. Stiles—I think, would serve as an emissary. And, I will be your liaison with the magical community.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be working as a liaison?” Peter gave him a pointed look.

“My family name carries credibility and is known to always aid creatures big or small both here in America and Great Britain. As for my age, well, as the muggle saying goes—age is but a number.” They never really talked about their family in the Glade, but somehow Stiles isn’t surprised that Newt came from a well-established family—probably old money, too.

Peter’s confused expression was gone the moment it became apparent. “If you’re counting on the Hale treaties that are already in place, then what’s the need for a liaison? Also, don’t think I don’t notice how you use supernatural and magic as if they’re separate.”

Stiles gestured for Newt to take over the discussion regarding those two things.

“In some way, they are.” Newt started. “The Americas has a very rich history in both fronts. They used to be one, but along the way—witch trials, creature segregation, and blood purity made way to a divide that led to one forgetting the other. It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, but what can one expect from a time wherein everyone is hiding from everyone.

“So, I’ll be helping you in introducing the supernatural community back into the magical community—not only in America but the whole world.” Newt made it sound so fantastical. Stiles is almost envious of his accent—almost. “The Hale name would go down in history.”

“I’m assuming you know where to get an Alpha Spark?” Peter asked—it got Stiles smiling. The man covering up his eagerness

“They’ll be here tomorrow evening,” Stiles answered him. “Now, let’s talk about…your miraculous recovery.”

* * *

Sly—that’s something Newt never thought that Tommy would ever be. Then again, Tommy isn’t only operating as Thomas. He’s embracing another part of himself and Newt can respect that. He can also admit that he’s curious about Stiles and the new person that would emerge from the two being combined.

From the way Tommy is looking at Peter Hale, Newt can tell that there is something more but not quite defined between the two of them. He’s not one to poke and prod, but the longing that’s coming from Tommy—not even Teresa receive that kind of look. That thought made him want to ask. What’s so special about Peter Hale that Tommy would look at him like Peter’s the one that got away?

Maybe Peter is, his mind supplied.

“The potion that I’ve given you, healed you.” Newt started with the obvious. “I’ve been told that instantaneous healing isn’t common in muggle medicine.”

“You’re going to have to fake it.” Tommy unapologetically said to Peter. “The recovery time—also going to another country to receive some type of plastic surgery.”

“It’s for the best.” Peter agreed but it seemed like he has more to say.

Peter and Tommy stared at each other for a moment. Newt felt like there’s a conversation happening between them. He’s guessing that there is from the next words that Tommy uttered.“I know who is responsible for the Hale fire.”

Peter’s eyes shined blue. “I’ll enact my revenge against everyone that was involved.”

“Going by the treaty you have with the Argents, it’s your right.”

Newt’s eyebrows furrowed at that. Tommy wasn’t exactly encouraging homicide—and Newt has no right to stop them, but revenge wouldn’t help them in their cause. He noticed how Peter’s jaw clench and unclench.

“If you have something to say, just say it.” Peter gritted out with a bit of a growl.

“Postpone your revenge plans for six months,” Tommy said. Newt almost can’t believe it. “The moment you start killing everyone involved it will attract hunters. This place isn’t stable enough for that kind of attention. Build a pack first, reaffirm your allies, make new ones in the magical community, and then hit them hard. The more people know you, the more would listen.”

Newt can now see where Tommy is heading. As he had mentioned before, sly. He decided to back-up Tommy’s play on this one. “The magical community doesn’t tolerate harm done against a member of its community. There are harsher punishments than death.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?” Peter sneered at him.

“Imagine having to live your worse fears every second of every day with no relief.”

“He doesn’t have to imagine hard,” Tommy said it so nonchalantly that even Newt flinched.

“We eliminated your primary caregiver, she was a hunter. She was sending reports to someone unknown, but it was clear that whoever she’s sending emails to—she’d alert them once you wake up. I can fake the reports easily and give you enough time to cement your recovery to the public’s eye so that no one would question your humanity.”

“This is your condition, isn’t it?” Peter all but snarled at them.

“It’s more a suggestion on my part. You can go ahead and get your revenge, have the hunters take over the town, and be seen as an unstable Alpha. Or, you can play it safe and have a more satisfying result. Either one, we’d still be your pack and we’ll support you then do our thing on the side.” Tommy straightened up—getting ready to leave. “You have time to decide. We’ll come back tomorrow night. You can start faking whenever you want.” He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. “For now, let’s set the glamour on you.”

Newt pulled out a small ritual dagger and reached for a plastic cup from the near-by bedside table. He cut Tommy’s arm and took enough blood for the rune. He looked back at Peter with silent permission. Newt didn’t dare touch the man without his explicit consent.

“You said that with his blood this rune would be unbreakable. Why is that?” Peter asked.

“Stiles is made entirely out of magic,” Newt explained. “The purest form there will ever be. No witch, wizard, druid, or darach can erase the magic of his blood. Only Stiles can do that or the one who used his blood. Now, may I?” He gestured to Peter’s supposed burnt side.

Peter gave him a terse nod. Newt moved at a steady pace—not wanting to butcher the glamour. Every part of their plan needs to be executed flawlessly for them to have the result that they want. Considering the result that they want is to keep the world alive, Newt thinks that extra caution wouldn’t hurt anybody.

After writing down the runes, he took his wand from his forearm holster and pointed it at Peter. “You might feel a surge of magic, don’t panic.” He warned Peter before reciting the words to activate the runes and move his wands according to the incantation. Slowly the burn marks appeared like it was never healed. He nodded at his work.

“Great work.” Tommy patted his shoulder before throwing Peter another look. “See you when we see you.”

With that, they walked out of the room. Newt kept the wards in place for his peace of mind. Inside Tommy’s jeep, he finally found it in himself to speak. “What the shuck was that?” He wasn’t technically angry, he just didn’t think Tommy would play it the way he did.

“A test,” Tommy answered him. “Peter—he’s ambitious but having been basically in a vegetative state affected his mind badly. I’d say he’d need more of your potion. This test would let us know just how sane he is at the moment—“

“And how many doses of the potion he would need.” Newt continued for Tommy as he shook his head from side to side. “So, you’re not going to let him avenge his family?”

“Oh, no! I’ll let him kill Kate in a heartbeat. We could use her to make the magical community see just how dangerous hunters are, but Gerard could work for that, too.” There must be something in Newt’s face that made Tommy sigh. “Look, this is…I know we can’t be the judge, jury, and executioner here. But, we have to be ready to do what we need to do to save everyone. If it means lying, manipulating, and killing, I wouldn’t hesitate. My morals are the least of my concern.”

“I’m not judging you,” Newt assured him. “Besides having no right to, I can see your point. We’ll do what we have to do, Tommy.”

* * *

Siggy doesn’t know a family—he knows pack, though. He barely remembers his mother and father, he admits that he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He does know how he grew up without them.

The Alpha of his pack explained to him—even at a young age, that his parents had a run-in with an omega. While his parents weren’t part of the pack, they were friends of the pack. The Alpha of the pack felt guilty about their deaths because it was supposed to be her job to make sure that the town is safe from wandering supernatural.

Even before the Maze, he vaguely remembers the day the Alpha pack of his town adopted him. He never felt adopted. He was welcomed open arms and was assured of his place in the pack. He grew up knowing that he is pack, and one day he would take the bite and be one of the betas who would protect their town.

Except that didn’t happen.

Siggy remembers when the news of the supernatural being hunted down, their Alpha made a tough decision of taking all the werewolves of their pack and go into hiding. Siggy then asked their Alpha for the bite, he was gently declined. He knows that his Alpha thought that it would be safer for all the humans in their pack to stay humans.

It wasn’t long before the government proved them wrong.

Inside the Glade, he remembers when people started referring to him as Frypan more than Siggy. The Maze is arduous and most of all dangerous. He found pride in being able to come up with hearty meals that would comfort growing boys such as himself.

Fry had always known what friends are, but with the Gladers, it feels like the word takes on a different meaning. He wonders if what he feels towards them is more familial—perhaps brothers. He honestly doesn’t mind being brothers with the bravest and smartest people he had ever met. They make him want to become a better person for them and for the future they are trying to create. He’s still not sure of what he’s going to be his station this time, but he knows he would still be cooking meals for his friends once they find a place to live in.

They are gathered in the hotel room with pieces of paper scattered on the coffee table. Thomas and he had scheduled an appointment with a real estate agent for next week to start their house hunting. They narrowed down the options by giving specific features that they want in a house.

Everyone agreed that it should have at least five rooms because there are five of them—even when Thomas reminded them that he is living with his father. Newt wants a basement so he can have a space to brew potions. Gally wants a garage that would fit two cars—because he’s buying a pick-up, dammit. Minho thinks they should have a spacious living room and kitchen, Fry agrees to this. And, Thomas thought that they should have a backyard.

The real estate agent said that they know houses that have all of that but it was a bit far from town. They all thought that it would be for the best. They would have fewer neighbors and away from prying eyes.

They took a break and had Chinese delivered. Thomas pouted at Newt when the later caught on quickly on how to use chopsticks. Gally just snorted his amusement and Minho suggested that they should try Korean sometime. Fry made a mental note of asking everyone’s favorite meal—besides curly fries on Thomas’s case that is.

Though it wasn’t mentioned, Fry knows that they still have things to talk about. He can see it from the way Thomas and Newt are sharing a look. The tautness in Gally’s frame and Minho’s ready stance. He kept himself relax and open—not wanting to add tension in the air.

“I know, it goes without saying that we can’t ever tell anyone about time travel,” Newt spoke up first. “We’re the only ones who know, plus the Minister of Magic Granger and Lord Potter. The Auror’s memory has been taken—with consent, and the Unspeakable in bind under magical oaths that they can’t mention anything to anyone.”

“Understandable.” Gally tilted his head to the side. “We can’t have people going back in time and doing what they think should have happened, and saving people they think they should have been saved.”

“I know I didn’t consult any of you but I’ve told Peter Hale that the three of you would be his Betas, while Tommy is his emissary and me as his liaison to the magical community.”

Fry nodded. “It’s obvious that for us to be a pack, we need to be someone’s beta. It only makes sense that it’s the three of us since we don’t have magic that would be canceled out by the bite.”

“Once we give Peter the Alpha Spark, he’s going to have to bite someone to not be overwhelmed by it,” Thomas informed them. It was obvious that he’s trying to make them decide who wants to go into the fray first.

“I’ll take it first.” Minho sternly said. “I was born to an all werewolf family but the gene skipped out on me. I have a bigger chance of surviving a bite from a newly turn Alpha.”

“I’ll be second.” Fry volunteered. “I grew up in a pack, I know how to submit easily as to not be seen as a threat. I think with two Betas he’d be stable enough to bite Gally without being heavy-handed on forcing submission.”

Thomas pulled out his phone and Newt craned his head to see closer. “The full moon just passed three days ago. We’ll pace it a week away from each other. It would give Peter enough time to get to know each of you and teach you the basics of control before the next month’s moon.”

“We’ll introduce everyone tonight, and explain to Peter the process of giving the bite,” Newt confirmed their plan.

“What do we tell the guy, though?” Minho asked. “I mean, he has to be somewhat aware of why we’re doing what we’re doing to go along with all of this.”

“Right now, he thinks we’re using his family name and the treaties that came along with it to introduce the supernatural to the magical community—which isn’t a lie,” Newt said to them. “Other than that…” Newt pointed at Thomas’s direction.

Thomas was quiet for a moment, seemingly unsure, but somewhere he found the courage to speak his mind. “I know we’re all aware that we won’t be doing things in an a…conventional way, but I think a little manipulation would go a long way.”

“What do you mean by that?” Gally asked.

“Since he doesn’t know any of us, we can tell him a bit of truth. A government faction experimented on us, we managed to free ourselves and now we’re trying to find a way to unify the supernatural and magical in hope to better fight the said government faction.” Thomas sighed as if he’s ready for them to shut down his idea. “This would make him…protective of us, and more willing to cooperate since it’s a threat that also hangs above his head.”

Newt stared at the three of them, it’s clear that he’s backing Thomas on his plan. Fry cannot find it in himself to protest. After all that they’ve been through, all the fallen Gladers, the blood in their hands, and the supernatural and magical that tried to undo all the wrong—what’s a little deceit to avoid all of that from happening again?

“We’re here to make things better.” He spoke up. “If it means doing bad things to keep everything from getting worse, then I’m willing to do horrendous things.”

“Fry’s right,” Minho said.

“Omitting the truth isn’t the worst crime we’ve committed—nor will it ever be.” Gally agreed.

“Thank you,” Thomas said—almost in a form of a whisper.

* * *

Peter heard their voices as they approach his room. Stiles’ voice held disbelief, while Newt carried a hint of amusement coloring the exasperation in his tone. They were talking about technology and magic not being compatible with each other as they open up the door in his room.

“That’s shucking sad,” Stiles said to Newt. “You’re going to need to have and learn how to use a phone. That’s like part of being a high school student here—well, a muggle high school student.” He placed air quotes on the word muggle—which Peter somehow knew was a magical term.

“We could just tell them that I grew up with a conservative family.” Newt insisted.

“Dude, you’re already playing the role of the son of an ambassador—adding Amish on the list is counterintuitive.”

“What in Merlin’s name is an Amish?”

Stiles started shaking his head from side to side. “No. Nu-uh. We’re getting you a cellphone and then I’m teaching you the wonders of Google-fu.” He then pointed at Peter. “But, first…How are you feeling tonight, Peter?”

Peter took notice of the suitcase Newt placed on the floor. The younger man toggle at the lock of the case and a sound somewhere inside got him tilting his head to the side—straining his hears to listen closer. “I’m faring quite well.” He answered Stiles. “I decided to alert the medical staff of my awakening once I get the Alpha Spark.”

Stiles hummed beneath his breath. “Reasonable. So, we’re going to introduce everyone and tell you how the biting thing is going to go. We don’t want to overwhelm you by having three new Betas to train all at the same time. We decided that we do one a week—that way they’ll all have some semblance of control by the full moon comes up.”

“It seems that you’ve thought about this thoroughly.” Peter couldn’t help but comment. He kept his tone neutral—not wanting to let out that he’s begrudgingly impressed.

“Before you go inside though…” Newt pulled out a vial from the pocket of his jacket. Peter noticed that there was no bulge on the jacket despite the size of the vial. He’ll guess that it’s magic. “You need another dose.”

Peter reached for it cautiously. “Does it need any incantation before or after being ingested?”

“Neither.” Newt supplied. “Just drink it and you’ll feel the effects.”

Peter uncorked the vial—the smell made him grimace. It smelled bad enough for him to simply drink it without actively trying to taste it. Just like the first time he ingested the potion, the effect surged through him. This time though, the effect was focused on his psyche.

His revenge focused mentality was broken by a series of logical thoughts that seemed to have been buried at the very back of his mind. Don’t get him wrong—he still wants his pound of flesh, but now he’s seeing all the benefits the two teens presented to him last time they’ve spoken. He closed his eyes as the flood of sorrow made itself known. Oh, now he remembers why he chose for rage and revenge to be his anchor.

He took calming breaths over the onslaught of realizations and comprehension of what he had experienced. He merely an unconscious madness filled omega. If he had woken up without the potion to aide his healing, it wouldn’t be farfetched to say he would have done things that he would regret once he’s sane once again.

Peter opened his eyes once again, Stiles concerned expression made the wolf in his purr. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. He’s half-aware that Newt is observing them closely.

Stiles was the first to break the silence. “You okay there, creeper wolf?”

“Thank you.” He breathed out. “For returning my sanity.”

“It’s mostly Newt.” There was a feather-light pink color dusting Stiles’ cheeks.

“I did it under your suggestion.” Newt didn’t bother hiding his eye roll. “Just accept the gratitude, shank.”

Stiles cleared his throat. “Well, you’re welcome, Peter—we’re pack at least we’re going to be.” Peter already knows how lucky he is to have Stiles in his pack.

“Merlin, you’re awkward,” Newt muttered it beneath his breath but Peter managed to catch it with his werewolf hearing. The English man opened the case—the voices coming from it became louder with an underlying growling in the background. “Now, get inside the case.”

Peter’s now certain that there’s magic involved in this one—and not the kind that he is familiar with.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bites, Wizards, Sparks and Hunters...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated if I would post now or next month. I couldn't help myself. Now, we all know that this is fanfiction. Please, excuse me if I made certain changes in the events in the originals to make this story work. I hope no one blasts me for that.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that took the chance to read this story, left kudos, comments and put this in their bookmarks. I appreciated it! This story is not Beta'd. I do proofread but some mistakes still gets pass me, please pardon them.
> 
> Now, on to the story...

“Woah.” Stiles tried to think of a more appropriate word to describe what he is seeing. Though, the word magical seemed to be the closest. He doesn’t even think that a million words would be enough to encapsulate the beauty that’s in front of him. It seems that Peter isn’t faring much better than him from the awestruck expression that he’s wearing.

He took a step forward and let his eyes wander. There’s a mere cloth dividing vast habitats from one another. An owl flew above his head, it made him wonder if they would be finding any creature.

“Fortunately, no,” Newt answered the question Stiles didn’t notice he said aloud. “I adore creatures as much as my grandfather and mother do, but carrying them with me everywhere with this task from the ministry is too much work. They’re currently in my grandfather’s menagerie—which is his basement.” He tilted his head to the side—a silent instruction to follow him.

“Is that what you’re planning with the basement of the house you’re going to get?” Stiles loved the artificial sunset they passed by as Newt lead the way.

“No, I was planning a potion laboratory,” Newt answered—passing a nighttime habitat. “I was thinking of teaching you potion brewing since it doesn’t necessarily require magic—just a steady hand and an alert mind, as my grandfather once told me. I have a feeling we’ll be needing a lot of healing potions soon.”

There’s a hum coming from Peter’s direction. Stiles knows that the werewolf is just as curious as he is. “Yeah, I think it’s best if we stack up on that.” Thinking about the possible threats they’re going to face, having ways to heal fast is certainly an advantage whether they’d be fighting hunters or other supernatural.

They reach a habitat that has plenty of trees enough to make it seem like a forest. He saw Gally, Minho, and Fry sitting down on a log in front of a campfire. The Alpha was tied to a tree, obviously weakened but still growling at them. Gally has a gun pointed at the werewolf—looking far too unimpressed, Stiles isn’t even wondering if they bullet is wolfsbane.

“Hunter scum!” The werewolf taunted. Gally just raised an eyebrow at that, though it got Peter tensing beside them.

Stiles took it upon himself to answer the accusation. “We’re not—really, you just have something we need. It’s unfortunate for you, but fortunate for us.” He turned to Peter. “Gally’s the one with the gun, he isn’t a hunter but he knows how to fight supernatural like one—even better, if we’re going to be truthful. That one’s Siggy—we call him Frypan because he’s a mean cook, he’s an all-around kind of guy. The other is Minho, he’s quick both physically and mentally—he doesn’t hesitate in a fight. He’s the one you’ll be biting tonight.” He turned to the rest. “Slintheads, meet Peter Hale—rightful Alpha of Beacon Hills and it’s soon protector.”

Fry’s posture was submissive, but not overly so. Minho showed enough respect, and Gally sent a wary look to Peter’s way—enough to seem protective yet not challenging. “That title’s a mouthful.” Gally shifted his eyes back to the tied Alpha.

“It will only get longer from here on out,” Newt answered with all seriousness—always keeping them in line. “I say we proceed with the transferring of the Alpha Spark.”

“What kind of Alpha will Hale be if he makes teenagers fight his battles for him?”

Before Peter’s pride could even be bruised, Stiles spoke up. “We’re not fighting his battles. We’re presenting him a gift, in exchange for being part of his pack. This…poor attempt at manipulation won’t work on a five-year-old, certainly not on our soon to be Alpha.” It was a subtle reminder to Peter that one of the reasons why he was chosen was because of his intelligence—he can’t act hastily. Stiles took a step back and stood just a few inches away from Peter. “Take the Alpha Spark, start the pack.”

Fry sent him a contemplative look, Gally one of consideration, and Minho’s eyes are locked on Newt—a silent conversation between the two of them. Newt nodded at the rest of them, and Stiles fought down a blush. He didn’t mean to sound so…well, so seductive. It just came out that way.

“Your fate has been decided,” Peter said magnanimously. The theatrics almost made Stiles feel nostalgic. “I am in no position to deny them, nor do I want to. I’ve tasted insanity and it doesn’t suit me.” He walked up to the Alpha and did a Beta shift. With clawed hands, he tilted the Alpha’s head upwards to get a clear view of the neck before descending on it with fangs bearing deep.

A gurgling noise echoed—thick due to the blood oozing out of the used to be Alpha rogue’s mouth. The werewolf jerked and trashed, fighting till the very end till the light faded from his eyes. Stiles saw Peter close his eyes as the Alpha Spark surge throughout his body. He can feel the pulse of power in the air. It was intoxicating enough to make Stiles wonder why he never felt the same whenever it’s Newt using his magic. He filed that thought for the moment. There are other pressing matters at hand.

A second pass and Peter opened his red-tinged eyes. Stiles thought that it suited Peter better this time around. There’s a prickling sensation under his skin that is telling him that he made the right decision. Peter turned towards him and Stiles got a glimpse of the man who let himself burn for the third time around—certain that he will be meeting his end. This time though, Peter stared at him with reverence and certainty. It made Stiles feel powerful than he should.

Minho took a step forward and projected a gesture of submission through a tilted head. “Alpha.” He breathed out the word with respect and willingness. Stiles was sure that it was a far cry from how Scott got bitten.

“Lift your shirt.” Peter’s voice was raspy with a touch of a growl, though there are outward signs that he was pleased by Minho’s submission to him.

Minho did as he was told and Peter approached him—all predatory and commanding. “Be prepared to catch him.” His order was directed to Fry and Gally, before descending on Minho’s fleshy rib side and biting down hard.

Stiles can see it for what it is. Peter was testing their willingness to be in a pack with him. The newly turned Alpha was gauging their commitment towards each other. Probably sensing their dynamic. Stiles felt giddy, it was enough of a confirmation that Peter has his sanity back—just turned and already trying to figure out how to lead his soon to be pack.

Minho hissed at the bite, he fell backward and Gally was there to catch him with Fry being encouraging with his words. If Stiles had blinked, he would have missed the approving nod Peter made towards his future Betas. He and Newt shared a look, a silent understanding passed through them.

“I’ll need to stay with him through the night.” Peter addressed Newt.

“You can stay here.” Newt allowed and tilted his head to the side. “There’s a room in the cabin. It’ll be a tight fit, but it’s more comfortable than the rocky ground. You guys go on ahead—I’ll clean-up the body and ward the hospital room better. Maybe even put an illusion of you sleeping to be on the safer side.”

Peter picked up Minho in his arms and let Fry lead the way to the said cabin. Minho let out a miserable groan upon being jostled, but a comforting hushing sound from Peter got him settling again. Gally was following behind, still cautious but willing to try and understand why Stiles choose Peter. Stiles can already see begrudging respect growing behind Gally’s distrustful eyes.

Stiles stayed with Newt as his friend vanish the body and ward the hospital room better. Newt holstered his wand before turning to Stiles. “I don’t completely understand pack—I’ve known werewolves, but not run with them. But, I can see that Peter wouldn’t shirk at his responsibilities of making sure everyone knows what pack is.”

Yes, Stiles made the right decision with this one. He patted Newt’s shoulder as they head to the cabin. “It won’t be hard to understand. We’re essentially a pack already—with everything that we went through, I don’t think there’s any other word that could be used to describe us.”

* * *

Peter faked his awakening the day after biting his new Beta. It sent a buzz throughout the hospital. Doctors after doctors came to examine him. If he didn’t have impeccable control over his facilities, he would have snarled at them. Still, he knows what role he needs to play until he’s seen as someone healed in the public’s eyes.

He acted confused and afraid –which he hated. He went along with the examinations, the poking, and prodding that made his skin itch and irritable. He took the babying coming from the more sympathetic nurses until night comes and he can finally be himself.

There’s a lull in between the constant monitoring of the medical personnel and the teenagers’ unofficial visiting hours. He takes that for himself and examined his thoughts and emotions. Introspection has always been an important part of him.

As a werewolf, he has to understand his connection with his wolf—know whose thoughts and emotions are whose. The need for revenge, Peter doesn’t deny that that came from both him and the wolf. There’s indignation on his part as a man because as the Left Hand of the Hale Pack, he should have seen the threat. The fact that he didn’t hurt more than just his ego—no, it hurt the entirety of him. His bonds were severed and he was injured.

To add salt to the metaphorical wound, his remaining pack and family left him to rot in a hospital with a hunter nurse. He could have healed if Laura and Derek had stayed. It would take a while, but it wouldn’t have taken six years.

Both he and his wolf are mad at them. He wouldn’t have left them –no matter what state the fire had left them. They are –were a pack, and they deserved to heal with a pack.

There is nothing to it now, he supposes. If they come back, he would offer them a place in his pack but he wouldn’t bow down to Laura. She had proved that she doesn’t have what it takes to be the Alpha of Beacon Hills. Peter is also certain that Stiles wouldn’t let him.

At the thought of the teenage boy, the wolf in him stir. Stiles is a strange little thing. He looks at Peter with trust and reverence that not even his former pack had given him. It makes Peter feel…things he never thought he’d feel again after the fire.

He is also not blind to the dynamic of the group. Peter may be Alpha, but most of them are his pack because Stiles chose him to be. If Stiles would ever deem him unimportant, the rest would follow Stiles. Peter can’t find it in himself to be offended by that. How can he be when Stiles had practically handed him everything and more?

The door opened and Stiles walked in with an easy smile and the case in hand. “Hey, creeper wolf. Ready for round dos of Minho’s training?” He settled the case on the floor. “The rest of the pack are already inside and Newt chose to be left alone in the hotel to write letters to his great aunt or something.”

“How is Minho acclimating with his new senses?” Peter asked as he got up from his bed. He is dressed in sweatpants and shirt—it wasn’t a bar higher than the ones he used to wear when he was in a catatonic state, but he considers it better than the ones he was wearing when Stiles and Newt healed him. He knows he has no reason to feel…self-conscious, but he does around the teen anyway.

Stiles snorted unattractively—not that it made him less attractive. “He complained about the noises and smells in the hotel, he only accidentally tore two pillows and a shirt, flashed his eyes gold once at the receptionist but other than that –he’s been super adaptable, but then again—Minho’s always been adaptable.” He pulled the case open. “Let’s get started.”

Peter followed Stiles down the case. He has been inside it for the third time and his awe wouldn’t be disappearing any time soon. He’s particularly impressed by the copy of the Grand Canyon and the artificial moon in the habitat that was constantly at night time. He wanted to pick at Newt’s brain, but he can tell that he has a long way to go before the other teen would even stop looking at him suspiciously.

Minho, Gally, and Fry were settled around a wooden table just beside the cabin. Fry has a paper on hand and he seemed to be listing down things that Minho and Gally were telling him. Straining his ears, he can hear them fill-out a form.

“Are they going to test us?” Gally asked. “They do know we didn’t go to magic school, right?”

“This is just they could give us identifications,” Minho answered. “I think Newt’s government is going to send this to the American magic government or something—that way no Auror would try and obliviate us. I used the words right, right?” He turned to Fry for confirmation.

“Yes, you did. And, yes, it’s for that—also it’s called MACUSA, Magical Congress of USA…I think.” Fry bit the top of the pen he is using.

“I still find it strange that Newt’s a well-connected shank,” Gally commented. “Who would have thought?”

“I still can’t believe that Thomas has a buzz-cut,” Minho commented.

“Hey!” Stiles called out to them as they approach the teens. “Don’t hate on the buzz-cut.” Peter didn’t show his confusion on the different names that Minho used. It’s normal for teens to use nicknames, anyway. “I got here your Alpha—now, shoo!” He made a waving gesture in the air. “Go spend some quality time with the guy.” The three rolled their eyes but started making their way to the forest habitat that they’ve silently deemed theirs.

“Won’t you be joining us?” Peter asked before following his Betas.

“I got some research I need to do to ease things up for Newt,” Stiles answered as he pulls closer to him the books that were already on the table. “Poor guy’s been handling more shit on his own. I’m serious about you spending time with them—get to know them and all that Alpha jazz.”

Peter knew from the start that Stiles has a certain expectation of him as an Alpha. What baffles him most is the belief that he would meet the expectations set. If it’s a challenge, Peter wouldn’t back down. Still, it doesn’t seem that way. It’s all too genuine to be. He wonders where Stiles got the impression that Peter would always do right by his pack.

He saw the teens waiting for him. He’s starting to think that Fry and Minho would always greet him with a smile, and Gally with a nod. “How are you boys this evening?”

“Nothing’s changed about me and Gally.” Fry supplied. “Minho’s been on edge though.”

Minho sighed. “It’s the noise. It’s getting to me—makes me jumpy.”

Of all werewolves Peter had taught—born or bitten, he can say that Minho’s one of the easiest. The teen doesn’t question nor doubts what he says. Minho is also quick in picking up instructions—self-aware enough that when taught about finding an anchor he didn’t struggle. Peter can say that Minho has the qualities to be a good Left Hand.

From his observation of the other two, he can tell that in teaching them he’d need to use praises on Fry and use Gally’s overprotectiveness on the group to get him to comply. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d have trouble teaching Gally, but something is telling him that that wouldn’t be the case. The three teens in front of him are strangely disciplined for their age. It makes him wonder what kind of environment they grew up in.

“In blocking out the noise, it’s better if you focus on one sound rather than not hearing anything at all.” He started instructing Minho. Peter can see the other two also listening attentively—just like the day before. They didn’t seem eager to be bitten, but they don't undermine the change they would soon experience seriously. He’s glad about that—especially since he’s not a person who suffers fools.

Peter spent the night instructing Minho on how he can use the enhanced hearing for tracking, detecting lies, and being on guard. They even played a little hide and seek. He’s impressed on how quick Minho was taking in everything that he had taught. From the way the teens move, he can tell that they had experience in hunting and being hunted.

It makes him worry.

* * *

Newt didn’t have much trouble contacting his Great Aunt. His grandmother and her sister never lost contact with each other and there were times wherein families would fly to each other’s country to spend a holiday together. He did have trouble getting in touch with his first cousin once removed—Quintin the youngest Kowalski, who has been living as a lawyer both for the magical and non-magical kind.

Before coming to America to live here, and not just spend the holiday, he never paid much attention to how closely intertwined the muggle and magical community of America. He never thought he’d have to buy a phone and those laptops that Tommy keeps mentioning. He turned the little…device on his hand and wonder how a little thing can send a message within seconds.

“I’m telling you.” Tommy’s now sounding exasperated. “Just call the guy—it’s easier than writing him an e-mail. Besides, isn’t he like your...cousin?”

“The first cousin, once removed.” Newt reminded him. “And, I can call him? Like, the floo call?”

“What flu-call?” Tommy asked back.

Newt had to take in a deep breath and remind himself that there are cultural differences they need to bridge together. “Floo is a…mode of magical transportation using a fireplace and a floo powder. It can also be used to call someone over the fire.”

“Fascinating,” Tommy said as he leaned back on the chair he was sitting on. “Well, you can also call someone using a phone and a laptop—but here, instead of the flu—“

“It’s Floo, and you’re just doing that on purpose now.”

“—you get a network service provider, activate a sim chip, add some minutes on your phone, dial a number and wait for them to answer the call.”

Newt gave him a confused look. “Sounds complicated.”

Tommy let out a groan this time. “We already did the first three steps. Now, you just have to dial the number and wait for your cousin to answer the call.”

Their discussion was put on pause as Peter and Minho walked inside the cabin. The newly turned werewolf looked worse for wear as he drops himself face down on the mattress. There was a muffled pained moan coming from Minho. They would usually have Gally and Fry with them, but the two are out surveying the preserve for the Nemeton. They wanted to see if it would have any effect on them because they’re certain that it would react to Newt’s and Tommy’s magic. They wanted to observe it in its natural state as much as possible.

It’s the third day of his training with Peter. For someone who has always been controlled, it was no wonder that Minho’s taking the lesson as easy as breathing. It helps that Peter seemed to know how to motivate Minho. The controlled environment also helped the two werewolves go all out without worrying if anyone would walk in on them.

“We’ve been successful in Minho’s control over his shift,” Peter announced to the two of them. Newt liked that the Alpha respected his and Tommy enough as an equal. He kept them informed of his progress in the hospital and Minho’s training. “He won’t be transforming in the middle of the day out of the blue if he gets nervous. He is still overwhelmed by the smell, though”

Minho turned over the mattress. “Everything –smells. How can everything just…smell? The sound is easy enough to block when Peter taught me how—hella useful too, but the smell…” Minho made a face and shuddered. “You guys wouldn’t want to know what’s happening in the room next to ours in the hotel.”

“I’ll also be teaching you how to use your nose in tracking,” Peter informed Minho—also Newt and Thomas. “It seems like you have a very keen sense of smell than most. That might just be your advantage.”

Minho gave a considering hum beneath his breath. “You think so?”

“We’ll test how far you can smell something and how good are you in picking apart the scent,” Peter answered.

“Hey, you might be our sniffing dog.”

“Tommy, that’s terrible.” Newt fought down his amusement.

Tommy then looked at him pointedly. “We’re not done yet with you, mister. The sooner you call your cousin, the sooner you’d be out of the hotel and into a house that’s comfortable for everyone. Also, classes are coming up—you need to get transferred.” He placed an air quotation on the last word.

Newt narrowed his eyes at the phone, on his other hand was his cousin’s number. He dialed the number slowly—making sure he got the digits right. Tommy said that he needs to press the green button for the call to go through. He did as he was told and almost jumped out of his skin upon hearing the first ring. He sent a scathing glare at Minho for snickering at him.

“Put it on speaker.” Tommy walked over him and pressed a button that Newt has no idea what for.

‘Quintin Kowalski speaking.’

“Quin!” He yelled at the phone—he noticed how everyone near him winced.

‘Newtie?’ Quintin's voice held disbelief. ‘You’re calling me over the phone. How—what? Is everything alright?’

“I need to talk to you! Can you come to Beacon Hills right away?”

“Jesus, you don’t need to yell at the phone,” Tommy told him.

‘Who is that? Beacon Hills? California? I’m canceling everything I have tomorrow and coming down first thing tomorrow morning. Are you with your family? Mom didn’t tell me anything about you guys visiting. What are you doing there?’ Quintin’s now clearly worried.

“I’m not hurt,” Newt assured him. “I’ll explain everything once you’re here—I’m here on…an official business from the Ministry of Magic.”

‘The apparition point is an hour far from Beacon Hills. Where are you staying now? I’ll head straight there. It’s safer than meeting outside.’ There was rustling coming over the other end of the line. ‘Don’t tell me if you’ve killed someone and please—please tell me you don’t have Uncle Newt’s case.’

Newt paused for a moment. “I’m actually inside it now—which is a wonder how I could make this call.”

“I left the top of the case open,” Tommy told him and Newt had to roll his eyes. “So, it seems that some technology isn’t ruined by magic. Aha!”

‘Oh, holy Morgana!’ Quintin sounds distressed. ‘We’re not chasing beasts, are we?’

Newt stared at Minho and Peter. “You’re not. You could also bring forms for…muggle schooling and also the Wizarding books great uncle Jacob read when he was preparing to enter the Wizarding Wolrd?” Quintin let out a pained sound finishing the call with promises of heading out the moment the first light touches the ground with all the things Newt asked him to bring.

Tommy was looking at his with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “There’s a story there, I can tell.” From the way Peter and Minho are looking at him, it’s clear that Tommy isn’t the only one curious about it.

He walked towards one of the bookshelves in the cabin and threw it at Tommy’s direction. “My grandfather’s a known Magizoologist—so is my father…” he threw a book at Peter. “…and my mother.” He sent another one flying towards Minho.

“Fantastic Beasts and Where to find them.” Tommy read aloud with a touch of awe in his voice. “By Newton Scamander.”

“Guide to Your Menagerie by Rolf Scamander.” Peter flipped through the pages.

Minho was nodding at the book. “Creatures Hidden and Seen by Luna Scamander.”

“It’s one of the reasons why the Minister of Magic decided its best that I’d be the one to liaison between the supernatural and magical,” Newt explained. “My family is known to introduce different creatures, how to care for them and fight for them—in the case of my brothers.”

“You have brothers?” Minho asked in disbelief. “You never told us that.”

“Well, they fight for creature rights. Don’t worry, once I write to them and tell them that there’s a different type of werewolf in the supernatural community, they’d Portkey here in a heartbeat and study you.”

“There are so many things in that sentence that needs to be addressed,” Tommy said. “First, what is a Portkey?”

Newt sighed before he started explaining all the things they didn’t understand.

* * *

Minho knew that is was only a matter of time before he gets turned into a werewolf. He just didn’t expect that he would have a different Alpha than his cousin. He doesn’t think it’s a bad thing, though.

The first time they met Peter, he can tell that the werewolf is dangerous even without the Alpha Spark. He exudes the aura of a Left Hand—Minho is certain Peter once was, and when he asked, Peter confirmed his suspicions. Minho found it in himself to relax around Peter because of that fact.

The Left Hand of his pack had always been watched with cautious respect. They do the dirty deed that not everyone has the stomach for. It makes them seem so unflappable. But, Minho knows better—he had watched his father struggle constantly at his position in the pack. Even though they were in the tethers—the fringes, his father remained loyal to their Alpha and it was expected Minho to be the same.

Perhaps its Minho’s teenage mind that thought it was unfair for the Alpha to expect loyalty from the man the entire pack was pushing away. There’s a part in Minho that tells him he wouldn’t be able to give the respect his cousin would demand from him when the moment comes. He’s almost glad of running away from home.

He wonders how Peter would treat his soon to be Left Hand.

They sat on the rock inside one of the artificial habitats in Newt. They decided on a different habitat for that night. The artificial moon hangs above them but he feels no pull towards it. Minho’s certain neither does Peter.

The Alpha had taught him how to find his anchor and use all his enhanced senses for the first four days. Minho had always excelled in discipline—it was expected of him by his father because he is next in line to be the Left Hand. If Peter was impressed, he didn’t overtly show it. Though, he did praised Minho enough to make him preen.

“The remaining days of the week I’m going to teach you how to be in touched with your wolf,” Peter explained to him and it got Minho standing straighter than he already was. He’s aware that werewolves can feel their wolves inside them, but it’s almost taboo to talk about the wolf from the pack he grew up in.“ Besides finding an anchor, knowing what separates you from your wolf would help you stay in control. Also, knowing what connects you to your wolf would help your transformation be at ease. Knowing, understanding, and accepting the wolf in you is a lifetime process because it changes with you—it grows with you and it is best if you grow closer.”

Minho nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Does it?” Gally asked—incredulously.

“Once you get bitten you’ll feel it,” Minho explained. “There’s something behind your mind—lurking. It listens –kind of, but it’s still wild. It doesn’t entirely have a mind of its own, but it’s the baser part of us. If we understand the baser parts of us, we’ll be able to curb it enough to our advantage.”

“That’s correct.” Peter expounded it a bit more. “The baser parts of us are our instinct. Once we understand how our instincts work and why it works the way it does, we’ll be able to see clearly through it despite how overwhelming they can be. I left this lesson for last because not everyone completely understands the need for it, nor learns it. You need a higher caliber of introspection for it.”

“Do you think I could do it?” Minho found himself asking. He’s never one to doubt himself. He had trusted his instinct ever since he became a Runner in the Maze, but this is different. His instincts are sharper. He needs finesse to pull this off, not just self-awareness.

“I think that you’re aiming for a certain position inside the pack,” Peter answered—and Minho couldn’t find it in himself to feel ashamed. “And if you think this is needed for you to be able to play that role, you’ll do your best to do it.”

“What position?” Fry asked him.

“I—I want to be Left Hand.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Gally didn’t let him answer Fry’s follow up question. “I think it would suit him.” Minho’s eyes widen at Gally. He admits that they’ve gotten close to each other, but Gally’s never one to give anyone a ringing endorsement. “Think about it, four days and he’s already good with tracking, he’s fast—well, faster now with his enhanced speed, and he doesn’t hesitate in going in for the kill.”

Gally clapped him on the back before continuing. “I think he’d be a great Left Hand, let’s just make sure that when our pack expands no one would treat him any differently. I’ve seen Left Hands get treated like klunk for doing whatever they can for the pack. I won’t stand for that.”

“If that’s what you want, we’ll support you,” Fry said with confidence.

Minho let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

Peter nodded approvingly on their unity. “Let’s start with meditation.” He turned to the other teens. “I suggest you try meditating now, too—just so you know how it’s like.”

They sat down and crossed their legs. Peter started them out with evening their breaths and being in the moment. There’s a rumbling at the back of Minho’s head—calling to him like a come hither. His wolf identifying him as the human part of them—the logical side, the one who can cage the wolf, and his wolf snaps at him.

But, Minho extends his hand to his wolf—an acknowledgment. Perhaps an agreement that he would listen to it and wouldn’t shrug off the wolf's warning –especially if it’s for the protection of his pack. His wolf respects that…respects pack and Minho’s anchor.

The wolf flips through his memories, collecting imprints of emotions about the past that will never come to be. The human would never hold him down or deny him on the things that would matter. The wolf understands, and the wolf will guard—pack and freedom.

* * *

Gally thought that there was already a flurry of activity with Newt’s constant writing of letters. He didn’t expect that they’d get busier when Newt’s cousin arrived. The two were corresponding to different people through letters that were delivered by owls. It made him wonder how no one noticed the coming and going of the animals, but then he’ll figure to just not question it. They were getting things done and that was the important part.

The house was signed over Newt’s cousin with very little issues. The house has five rooms, with a basement, attic, and garage big enough for two cars. He announced that they are going to get a pick-up truck because that’s a reasonable vehicle to have. The walls were painted perfect ecru with touches of polished browns. Everything was in working order, all they have to do was to move in.

Their move was a different story though. It was easy enough to shop for what they want inside their rooms. Mattresses, drawers, racks, and everything else a teenager would need. When it comes to buying furniture for the living room, dining room, and kitchen—they all came up blank. It was a good thing that they had somewhat adult supervision in the form of Newt’s cousin.

Everything was delivered before the week was even over and between Minho’s new strength and Newt’s magic, they manage to put everything into place after a day and a half. Fry volunteered to grocery shop with Thomas while the rest of them flop down on the couch and just take a breather. Gally never thought that there would ever be a domestic part in their mission.

When he lets himself think of all he lost, he can say that he is less angry at losing everything the second time around. It’s probably because he knows that by leaving he is indirectly protecting his family and pack. And, if everything goes according to plan, he may be laying a better future for them, too. It’s hard to get angry when hope is there still.

A day after their move, they all got dressed—enough to look like sons of ambassadors, much to Thomas’ amusement, and head to Beacon Hills High School. They sat down with the school’s guidance counselor and the Sheriff—upon the request of Quintin, to discuss their transfer and their made-up situation. The guidance counselor promised to look after them and alert Quintin if there is any trouble with their grades and others. While the Sheriff promised that Quintin would be contacted immediately if anything crime related happened to the boys.

“Sheriff Stilinski.” Newt turned up his charm—Gally never thought that he can. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Stiles Stilinski, would you?”

“I am.” The Sheriff nodded their way. “He is my son.”

“I hope you wouldn’t mind us befriending him.” Newt smiled at the older man. “You see, when we got here, our car broke down and he was kind enough to give us a ride to our hotel. He has been hanging out with us these past few weeks, and it would be a relief to have him as a friend while we adjust to this new school and environment.”

“I wouldn’t mind at all.” The Sheriff seemed surprised but relieved, too. “I think Stiles would benefit from having more friends.”

Gally is now certain that Newt can charm anyone off their pants.

They headed back to their new home to get ready for Minho’s lesson with Peter. While Gally was already part of the pack back then, the intimate knowledge about werewolves wasn’t offered up to him. A part of him understands it, a part of him wished they could have given him a chance to know them better.

Now, he has the chance to. Peter is a skilled teacher. He had experience in teaching werewolves. The man also has a way of explaining things to them that makes everything click into place and simply make sense. Peter showed them that instincts aren’t all that irrational—it just works on a certain pattern that needs to be understood.

The fact that Gally would be bitten never left his mind—he never thought that he would ever take the bite. He wanted to understand the werewolves in the pack better, but he was content with being human. He was fine with gunslinging and thought that it was one of his best skills.

With Minho dedicating himself to the position of Left Hand, Gally isn’t sure what he and Frypan’s position in the pack would be. It’s obvious to him that one of them would be the Right Hand, but he just can’t see either of them being good at it.

Peter put a halt in the lesson to talk to Minho about his wolf. Minho was sincere in his answers and Gally wondered if he would have the same reaction to knowing the wolf inside his head. Probably not, Minho was born in a family of werewolves, their level of expectations would surely differ from one another.

Peter called out to Newt and Thomas, it was obvious that they would be having a serious discussion. Newt and Thomas left the books they were digging information into and joined them in the habitat that pure meadow. Both of them were wearing an expression of curiosity.

“I know you have planned on who I should bite next.” Peter started. “But, I think it would be best if the next one I bite would carry the role of Right Hand, to keep the balance in the pack. If that is Fry, then I shall bite him now—Minho has a good grip on his control already, we shouldn’t be wasting time.”

Fry snorted from where he was sitting. “It’s obvious that Gally’s going to be the Right Hand.”

“What?” He couldn’t help the furrowing of his brows.

“It makes sense.” Minho seconded. “You’re fiercely protective.”

Thomas let out a chuckle. “I don’t think anyone needs a reminder of that.”

Newt nodded to his direction. “Seems like it’s decided then.”

“Do you agree?” Peter asked him—eyes boring into his soul as if he is searching for what Gally’s friends see in him.

He isn’t concern if Peter sees what he needs or wants to see, he’s more preoccupied with the fact that his friends trust him enough to put him in a position of power despite what he did back then. There’s only one answer to the question. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

Stiles started writing down everything that happened in Beacon Hills after Scott got bitten. Newt gave him a look of disbelief when he read all of the things that the McCall pack has faced. Newt also gave him a look that says they’re all idiots as he read how they stopped the threats that came their way. At the very end though, Newt looked at him as if he finally understand why Stiles stares at Peter in a certain way.

They have an additional six months of preparation before Laura and Derek learns that Peter is awake. Before Kate Argent returns to finish the job that she started years ago. Before Chris could try to keep the treaty in place. They could use those months into studying the Nemeton and finding out its connection to everything supernatural.

While Newt agreed with him that researching information about the Nemeton is a time worthy cause, Newt also handed him books that mention Sparks. “We’d be stupid if we don’t use your Spark in our endeavor,” Newt told him pointedly.

“I get that,” Stiles told him as he followed Newt around the basement that the wizard had extended to become both library and potions laboratory. “But highly doubt that there’s any manual out there about how I can use my Spark.”

“Manual? No.” Newt swiped his hair to the side. “You have to understand, a Sparks magic is pure—so pure that it needs no spell, charm, or even a wand. There’s no manual because there’s no need for one.”

“Newt, you are not making sense at this moment. There has to be some sort of conduit for the energy.” He helped Newt heft the tray of vials on the table. “You have magic, why are you carrying these when you could…magic them away?”

“These vials are charmed and must be handle with the utmost care,” Newt explained as he started moving around the laboratory again. “A Spark can will anything to happen—read the bloody books I gave you. They will give you an idea, and what you need most—an understanding of Sparks and how they work their magic.”

“Can’t I just…I don’t know, learn from your school books?” Stiles almost gagged at the smell of the ingredients that Newt was laying on the table.

“No, you can’t. Merlin only knows what would happen if you try.” Newt crouched down to get two sets of a cauldron. “Read the books in your free time, Tommy. I swear it would make sense.”

“Fine.” Stiles huffed. He reached for the knife and chopping board. The lesson in potion would start with the simplest healing potion. “What about the supernatural witches? I mean, are they even real witches or just a different kind of witch you guys are used to? Are Druids and Darachs Wizards?”

“I’ll need books about those topics before I could come up with an answer. Right now, the only source we have on that front is Peter, and we haven’t gotten to the point of exchanging books—which I have to do as soon as possible.” Newt started showing him how to cut the ingredients. “I’m more worried about the Eichen House. Supernatural or magical, no one should be experimented on. I’m honestly considering giving that one to MACUSA once Peter reintroduces the Supernatural to the Magical community. It’ll take some time, but I don’t think we’ll be able to bring them down on our own.”

“That makes sense.” Stiles chopped the ingredients slowly—keeping in mind that the instructions about the potion were quite exact. “Hey, maybe Aurors would also help us with fighting the Dread Doctors.”

“Well, they’ll certainly come if we ask them. The government would have to get involved whether they want to or not when it comes to an organization fighting the supernatural.”

A thought passed through Stiles's mind and it got him pausing from where he was standing. “Hunters…” He muttered.

“What?” Newt looked up from what he was doing.

“The Hunters,” Stiles repeated as he wiped his hands clean and reach for the notebook wherein he wrote all the threats the pack has faced. He cannot believe that he had forgotten about the Hunters. He wrote Kate, Gerard, and Victoria down, but not the Hunters. “Fuck!”

Newt put down his knife and approached him. “What’s the Hunters?”

“They’re an organization that hunts down supernatural creatures that pose threats to humans,” Stiles explained. “Few of them are Kate and Gerard.”

“So, they’re bad.” Newt was going off on what Stiles had mentioned about the two.

“No—not all of them.” He wrote down Hunters at the bottom of the paper. “Chris Argent—I mentioned him being Kate’s brother, is a good egg. He follows the code even when he’s surrounded by hunters who don’t.” He thought for a moment. “They’re a matriarch organization, Argents are the most respected of the hunters and have a sway on the whole hunter community due to their ancestry. We need to have an 'in' inside their organization—a somewhat say over their leadership.” He stared at Newt. “In the long run, we can use them.”

“How?” Newt was shaking his head from side to side.

“When—and let’s face it, this is a ‘when’ and not ‘if’ situation, even before. When the world knows about the supernatural and magical community, the government listened to the hunters’ community. If we manage to…let’s say, have a friendly relationship with the next Matriarch of the hunters—the supernatural and magical community wouldn’t be demonized the way it was before.”

“You know who’s going to be the next Matriarch.” It wasn’t even a question.

“We just have to keep her alive and change certain perspectives,” Stiles said—then a thought got him biting his lips. “We can't just influence her alone, she'd need someone's support. And, right now, there are more bad eggs around her than good ones.”

Newt was quiet—considering Stiles's words. “How are we going to do this?”

“First, we eliminate all the bad eggs around her.” Stiles turned over the page of the notebook and wrote step one. He also wrote Kate, Gerard, and Victoria with circles at the side, he intends on ticking those off once they’ve been eliminated. “Second, we surround her with good open-minded eggs.” He wrote Chris’s name and stopped there.

Newt snorted out a laugh. “Maybe we should arrange for Chris to date a good open-minded egg.”

It was a joke—Stiles knows that, but it wasn’t a bad idea. “Hey, remember that mind-reading thing you do?”

“It’s not mind reading.” Newt rolled his eyes at him. “It’s Legilimency.”

“Think you can do that on everyone?”

* * *

Peter raised an eyebrow at Newt as he placed multiple books in front of him. They are, once again, inside the magical case. Gally’s training was interrupted when Newt called out for his attention and asked him to enter the cabin. He didn’t expect to be handed books.

“We’ve mentioned that you’re going to reintroduce the supernatural to the magical community.” Newt started. “These are books about the Wizarding community—culture, proper etiquette, and such. I’m not going to present you to MACUSA as clueless as a muggle-born wizard. I’m not letting anyone take advantage of us.”

“I commend you on your foresight.” Peter started with the closest book that he can grab. It’s a history book on the Wizarding world. He’s already intrigued by the title and was in awe when he saw the pictures move.

“I’m also hoping that you’ll let me read whatever book your family has left about the supernatural.” Newt handed him a quill—an honest to God quill that got Peter frowning at, and a parchment.“Stiles and I have been researching information about the Nemeton. While I have sources in the magical community, I think it only is right to also know what the supernatural thinks about the Nemeton. Not only that—Stiles mentioned witches, druids, and darachs, obviously they’re different from what I am, I just need to figure out how different. And, if my research leads to understanding how they got their magic, that will help in the reintroduction of the supernatural.”

Peter let out a hum between his slightly pursed lips. “The two of you certainly thought this through.” He can tell that Newt is a person who is used to being the one that makes sure that progress happens and watch over it. The teen’s mind is ordered in the way that Stiles isn’t—even when the other one is the ideas man.

“Everything has to be.” Newt shrugged nonchalantly. “Introducing one community to another, a lot can go wrong,” Newt said it with such gravitas that Peter knows he’s speaking from experience.

Peter knows he’s not dealing with ordinary teens and a part of him wants to know what turned the boys into hardened young adults that they are now. Stiles’ ideas, Newt’s work ethic, Minho’s readiness to fight, Frypan’s never-wavering support, and Gally’s protectiveness. Its things that aren’t developed overnight—not even a year, if he thinks about it.

“You can be sure that I’ll do my best to make sure that the reintroduction would go as peacefully as possible.” He picked up the quill and parchment and wrote down where they could find the books he had kept and also his laptop. “Be careful with those, I haven’t digitalized everything yet. That project was put into pause because of the fire.” He said to Newt as he hands over the parchment.

“Thanks. I’ll take good care of everything we find there.” Newt folded the parchment into two and slid it inside the pocket of his jacket. “We’ll leave you with the wolves.”

Peter decided to finish up his training with Gally before continuing to read. He stacked the books neatly on top of each other before heading out of the cabin. The first thing that greeted him as he walked out the door was Minho slamming his whole body against Gally and Frypan laughing at their antics.

Gally’s control training is going better than he initially expected, though he’s certain that he will never convince Gally to forgo his guns. The teen argued that the werewolf eyesight would go to waste if they don’t maximize its use. Peter had to pause for a minute to wonder how Gally developed such a practical mindset at his age.

He didn’t expect the group of teens to vote Gally as the Right Hand—if he were, to be honest before Minho spoke out about wanting to be the Left Hand, Peter thought that it would be Gally. There’s a certain level of severity that can be found in Gally’s seriousness. There’s no doubt that the teen would willingly play the role of the villain if it means keeping everyone safe. That’s why he’s just baffled by the teens’ decision.

But as the week progresses on and as he gets to know Gally, it became apparent that while Gally may not be the leader of the group, he can still lead the group in a fight. Gally’s a soldier—one that is ready to give up his life for the rest of the pack. Peter can see how he fits the role of a Right Hand.

Gally grunted as he falls on the ground. “You are such a slinthead.” He knocked Minho’s head with his knuckles.

“Oh, come on,” Minho complained. “You weren’t even trying.”

While Gally seemed to have good control over his wolf, it’s starting to seem that he’s having a hard time releasing the wolf inside him. It’s a curious case for Peter. He had never met a wolf who is quite content on taking the metaphorical back seat. Peter needs to figure out how he can push Gally into letting go of his wolf.

Peter walked over them with an idea. “Gally, I want you to protect Frypan with everything you got.” Gally’s expression showed one of confusion but he pulled Frypan close to him. Peter turned to his Left Hand for a moment. “Sit this one out.”

Minho nodded, aware that Peter has something up his sleeve to help Gally.

Peter took his stance and flashed his eyes red before bearing his fangs. He went in intending to make Gally feel that Frypan’s truly in danger. The growl that erupted from Gally’s throat was loud and threatening. It was glorious to see Gally’s features change to one that shows off his wolf.

While Peter didn’t use all of his strength in sparing with Gally, he used enough intimidation tactics to get the teen sensing the urgency to protect. Gally didn’t disappoint on that front—knowing that Peter is stronger and more experienced than him, he tried his best to keep Frypan away from Peter. If this plays out in a real fight, it would be enough for Frypan to escape or—with how long Gally is holding up, it would give them enough time for the back-up.

Peter can see the difference between Minho and Gally’s fighting style. Minho uses his speed to his advantage, he moves in quick and leaves as many wounds as possible to weaken the opponent. Peter can guess that Minho would make his opponent suffer before ending them—if that’s a conscious choice, he’s not certain.

Gally, on the other hand, is precise with his movement, he goes in for the sensitive spots for the kill. He doesn’t waste energy or strength in large arching moves—everything was minimized but Peter can tell that Gally’s using his full strength whenever he lands a hit. It’s ideal for when they would need to fight in the open with other packs.

Peter let himself have a burst of speed to tackle Gally to the ground. The teen came down, but he came down fighting. Peter let out a commanding growl, and Gally bears his neck with a sneer. “That’s enough for today, pup.” He placed a comforting hand on Gally’s nape as he helps the teen up to his feet. “The others were right in choosing you to be the Right Hand.”

Gally tried to pat off the dust that clung to his skin. “If it were offered before—well, before…I don’t think I’d be a good Right Hand.” He shrugged. “Circumstances led me to mature, I guess.”

“It’s a good thing to be aware of our flaws.” He said. “It leads to personal improvements.”

“I can feel the wolf…” Gally started with a bit of hesitancy. “It’s there inside—but it’s not really…overwhelming.” The teen was having a hard time explaining how he’s feeling. “It’s present, it guides me but it doesn’t fight me—I guess, we get along?”

Peter hummed beneath his breath. “It’s not uncommon to be completely aligned with your wolf. As I’ve mentioned before, the wolves are the representation of our baser instincts. The fact that you get along with it simply means you’re aware of it and have been listening to your instincts before you were even bitten.”

“So, I’m an instinctual person even before the bite.” Gally simplified. “I guess that makes sense.”

“I do not doubt that you wouldn’t have trouble getting to know your wolf.”

* * *

Everything is going smoothly so far, from Stiles’ perspective. They have a lot of foundation to lay down, he and Newt have been working non-stop at it. The important pieces must be in place before they act—knowing that once they start making waves it’ll set people’s eyes on them.

Stiles is aware that not everything will go the way it did back then. He’s counting on the changes that they’d be making to work for them. But, he knows that not all changes would be for their benefit. There are too many extraneous variables for him to be certain.

Giving Peter back his sanity means that Scott won’t be bitten and Stiles is relieved of that. His best friend means well, but sometimes tough decisions have to be made. He knows that Lydia would still awaken her Banshee heritage, but without Peter’s help in that, it’ll probably take years. While Lydia grew up to be one hell of a woman, they have no time to cater to her teen whims.

Without Laura being lured back this early, Kate wouldn’t be making her way to Beacon Hills just yet. It would give them enough time to negotiate with Chris since their move has nothing to do with the reappearance of werewolves in Beacon Hills. They could formally introduce their pack to the Hunters and inform Chris that Kate would be facing punishment for what she did.

They also have to take the Nogitsune away from the Nemeton. Its mere presence is poisoning the stump, making it impossible for the tree to grow back. He would have to perform cleansing rituals in the hope to accelerate the healing of the stump. He’s hoping that once the stump starts growing another tree, it would be enough to keep away the bad supernatural creatures and welcome the good ones.

Fry threw him bottled water and he caught it easily enough. Stiles can site a lot of positive things with being back in the past. He can honestly say that his physique isn’t one of them.

He has taken running around the preserve in the mornings that his Dad is working along with his friends. With Minho and Gally wolf upped, he thought that they wouldn’t be joining them. Turns out, Peter encouraged the two to join the mortals of the pack, saying that it would be a good bonding activity for everyone. Newt had taken to heart the lessons he learned in the Maze and is doing his best to not be too reliant on his wand. Stiles wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it is nice to know that he wouldn’t be the only one who would struggle to keep up with the werewolves once Fry has been turned.

Still, he knows he has to start learning how to use his Spark. Newt was right in saying that it is a big advantage for them. But Stiles knows that it would only be an advantage once he knows how to use it.

“You’re thinking too loud, Greenie.” Gally poked at him.

“Yeah.” He wiped the trail of water running down his chin. “Thinking about the books I need to read when I get home.”

“Is there any reason why you seem to be postponing reading about Sparks?” Newt asked him.

He shrugged—trying to seem nonchalant. “I always thought myself human, you know. Surviving this hell hole of a town as one has always been a source of my pride. Finding out I’m a Spark…makes me wonder if knowing what I am from the start would have made a difference.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Newt flicked a finger at his forehead. “You could have found out earlier and you solved everything with a simple flourish of your hand, or you could have been used in developing the virus, then we wouldn’t have the chance to go back. No one can tell—but we’re here now. Smarter than we were before, hardened and a touch desperate. There’s no reason to hesitate any longer.”

“I guess, it’s time I do my part,” Stiles muttered.

Minho, Gally, and Fry had left their families and pack to help. They have and will undergo life-altering changes to save the world. They have given a lot to their cause while he and Newt get to stay in contact with their families. If changing from human to something else entirely would be the only sacrifice Stiles need to do, he shouldn’t be such a pussy about it.

He went home that morning, showered, and cracked open the first book on the stack that Newt left him. He started with a collection of myths on Sparks. Then moved to old tales of where Sparks came from and why they exist—it speaks of how they are magic personified and they exist to guide witches and wizards. As Stiles reach the end of a historical book about Sparks, he notices the change in how Sparks are viewed.

At first, they were something akin to gods or goddesses. Then, it was made to seem they came from a prestigious bloodline that was blessed by powerful magic. As time passes, it seems no one ever found out why Sparks exist but they’re also humanized.

With being humanized, came being victimized. It didn’t matter where they came from or why they existed. They were hunted for the endless pool of magic inside them. It wasn’t a wonder why Sparks became rare nor why they hid from both the magical and supernatural world.

He got lost in the pages of the books that he didn’t notice the sky turning orange till it turns entirely blue with the stars taking over the sky. A tap on his room’s window got him looking up. Peter opened it with ease and it almost gave Stiles flashbacks.

“What are you doing here?” He checked the nearest clock and saw the time. He muttered a curse beneath his breath. “Have you bitten Fry yet?” He started moving frantically around his room—trying to find something he can change into.

“I volunteered to get you, dear.” Peter’s usual drawl wasn’t as arrogant as before—before. “Frypan wants everyone to be present for his biting, I don’t want to disappoint the sweetest of the group.” His eyes were scanning the room as Stiles shrug on his red hoodie. “You have quite a collection of books.”

“Everything borrowed.” He admitted as he laced one shoe after another. He’s trying his best to ignore the way Peter’s eyes follow him.

“You and Newt have big plans,” Peter said as an apropos for nothing.

Stiles got up from the bed and stared at Peter’s eyes directly. Behind the forefront of his mind, he can see Peter burning—for the second time or the third time, he wasn’t sure. Peter burning alive once is more than enough. The noises the man-made as he burns for the second and third time is etched in Stiles’ psych, it’s hard to figure out which is which when waking up from his nightmare is an impossibility.

“You know what they say; go big or go home.” He replied with sarcasm. Stiles opened up the window and gestured for Peter to go.

But before Peter moved, he asked. “What’s your goal?”

That question brought in an onslaught of answers that Stiles is sure he couldn’t just speak aloud. ‘To keep you sane. To keep you alive. To make sure people will know you are the one that protected Beacon Hills. To be in a pack with you. Perhaps be with you.’

He paused to think about it hard—to speak of the truth without revealing the truth. “To keep everyone safe.”

Peter looked as if he wanted to say something more—or ask another question, but he closed his mouth and climbed out of the window. Stiles followed after him and they both head to the hospital where the rest of the pack is waiting. Peter stared at his jeep with a raised brow, then pointedly at Stiles.

“You’re a clever creature, Stiles—clever yet strange.” They stood close to each other and Stiles can feel the warmth radiating off Peter. “It’s as if you have a soul of man and is stuck in a child’s body.”

Stiles couldn’t stop the snort that came from his mouth. “Guess, I’m just an old soul.

They clambered on the jeep and Stiles bask in the comfortable silence that reigns between them. Peter won’t push—at least not now. Stiles has enough time to figure out his Spark and this whole…semi-world domination thing. For tonight though, he needs to be with Fry as he gets turned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of school...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the chance to read this story. The kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subscriptions means a lot to me. I know I said that I would only update once a month but I want the story to progress while I still have time in my hand enough to write massive chapters--because I'm sticking to that 10k words mark. I know. Good luck to me.
> 
> Again, I made some changes in the cannon to make this story work. This hate me, please. This story isn't Beta'd, but I do proofread. Some mistakes may still get pass me, please excuse those. On to the story...

Frypan now often finds himself frowning as often as he thinks things through. Ever since he was bitten, he would feel a certain nudge at the back of his head whenever he is planning to do something. The nudge could be a light pet that warms his insides, or it could be a heavy pounding that could start a headache.

He mentioned this to Peter and he was advised to listen to the nudging before doing anything. It was his wolf’s way of communicating with him. He doesn’t have to always go by what his wolf wants—as Peter had told him, but they must listen to each other and try to make the other understand why they do what they do.

It seems pretty simple enough—but now, he’s growling at the pop-tart that Minho was about to shove inside his mouth. Minho paused mid-bite and was looking at him questioningly. Fry snatched the pop-tart off his hand and it went straight to the bin.

“Hey!” Minho exclaimed. “That was my before dinner snack.”

Somewhere in the living room, Newt snorted a laugh at that.

“First, that…thing has too much preservative in it.” Fry started pulling out ingredients from their fridge. “Second, you’re going to spoil your dinner.”

“You know that ever since being turned my stomach had evolved into a black hole.” Minho pointed out. “I could eat a hundred of those things and be hungry thirty minutes before dinner.”

“Have you considered that the reason why you’re always hungry is that you haven’t been eating anything of substance?” Fry countered as he washes the tomatoes he’s going to use.

“You guys ever thought that saving the world could have moments of domesticity?” Gally piped up from where he was cleaning his guns.

“Let’s count ourselves lucky that we have downtime like this.” Thomas flipped a page on the book that he is reading.

Minho sighed—defeated as he walked back to the living room and let himself fall on the couch face first. Fry decides on making fresh tomato lasagna with tons of garlic bread and salad on the side. He’ll be making more than two pans because Minho wasn’t kidding about the black hole—also he’s thinking about taking some to Peter.

Despite accepting the fact that he would be turned into a werewolf from a very young age, Fry never really thought about what the change would bring him. It wasn’t taboo to talk about the inner wolf in his former pack, but it’s still an intimate subject that’s not easily breached by anyone. He wasn’t sure at first what questions he should or shouldn’t ask. His hesitancy was felt by their Alpha and he was encouraged to ask as many questions as he wants.

Fry appreciates Peter’s different approach towards them. With Minho, the Alpha is strict. With Gally, the Alpha is challenging. With him, the Alpha is understanding. Still, Peter expects respect from them and to have discipline instilled in them.

Peter can make their training palatable for everyone. The older werewolf would always start by teaching them how to control their senses. Then they would move on to finding an anchor to control their shift. After that, Peter would then have them do tasks that would reveal what their strengths would be.

He doesn’t have Minho’s tracking abilities and speed. He doesn’t have Gally’s protectiveness and precision. What he has is incredible strength—incredible even for a werewolf. Even he was shocked when they found out, but then he never really thought that he would have anything special once he was turned.

The full moon was drawing near and so was the start of the academic year. They weren’t worried about attending high school since they all know that they aren’t going to college after. They are dedicating their entire life to making sure the world is safe and would probably influence its development from the sideline. It would be hard but Fry thinks that they are starting in the right foot.

He took the pans out of the oven and quickly set aside a portion for Peter. Minho didn’t have to be called to set the table. The rest followed after with promises that they would be the ones who would do the dishes.

The time for their training came, like clockwork, he, Minho, and Gally went inside the case and waited for Newt and Thomas to arrive at the hospital. Peter came in—still wearing the glamour for his injury but eyes lighter than it was before, and greeted them by scenting them. Being part of packs even back then, the four of them was used to it and Newt had to stop himself from squirming when Peter rubbed their cheeks together.

“Before we start, I got something for you.” Fry handed Peter the container with the lasagna and garlic bread to Peter. “You’re probably tired of the hospital food.”

Peter smiled at him and Fry couldn’t help but preen. “Thank you, this looks delicious.” They sat at the picnic table available by the habitats and let Peter eat as they talk about the werewolves’ progress in their training.

“I just…” Fry hesitated for a moment. “I just don’t know if I should ask about anchors. I mean, is it taboo to ask others about it? I can feel my wolf –I listen to my wolf, but it’s like we can’t find a common ground to be our anchor.”

“It’s not taboo to talk about it,” Peter answered him. “Though it is intimate—those who would willingly share those to you means they trust you deeply since anchors can be used against a werewolf –especially if the anchor is a person.”

Gally hummed beneath his breath—considering the information given by their Alpha. “I don’t mind sharing my anchor.” He told Fry—and Fry couldn’t help but be thankful for it. “It is pack and protection.”

Minho nodded next to Gally. “Mine is pack and freedom.”Fry understands why freedom would be the one that Minho would choose. He doesn’t think anyone would ever want to be captured again.

“All those are great anchors.” Peter praised them and Fry saw Gally huffed his chest a bit and Minho smiled at their Alpha. “Before the fire, my anchor was pack and secrets—I thought that it was appropriate being the Left Hand. While I was healing, it was rage and revenge. It’s not ideal, it kept me going –healing albeit slowly, but I wasn’t completely sane. Now, it’s pack and desire—the desire for a better future to be exact.”

The scent of sweetness was coming from Thomas—no werewolf pointed it out. The three new ones not sure what it meant exactly, and the Alpha having enough tact not to. If Fry would guess, it might be happiness because they have the same goal.

Fry let the information settle inside his mind—turning it over and over until he can think of an anchor that would work for him.

Once Peter was done with eating, they all head to the habitat with the artificial moon. The aura of the place was perfect for meditation. The werewolves sat down on the grassy field and closed their eyes to commune with the wolves.

Fry followed the sense of his wolf inside his mind. A black wolf with a white fur snout greeted him with a grumbling noise. He walked up to it—knowing that it wouldn’t harm him. The wolf wrapped itself around Fry and he figured out what his anchor would be. Pack and support—the wolf gave him a nudge that warmed him up from the inside.

* * *

There’s a few more days before the start of the school year. Stiles had successfully kept his nightly activity from his Dad and Scott. Though, he did mention to his Dad that he’s also been hanging out with the new kids –in support of their plan. It prompted his Dad to mention the meeting with the guidance counselor. It seemed that Newt worked his charm since his Dad is supportive of what others see as their growing friendship. His Dad even said to him that the boys were welcome to hang out in their place.

Now, he’s trying to think of a way of distancing himself from Scott without it being too obvious. It wasn’t said out loud, but for the mistakes not to happen again, Stiles has to do his best not to involve Scott in anything supernatural. It’s not enough to prevent Scott from getting the bite, Stiles has to make sure that he will never get involved.

Thinking back, he knows that Scott would blow him off for Allison. He could use that, but Allison would play a vital role in the future that they’re making. Also, Allison will always be involved in the supernatural whatever happens just because of who her parents are. He’s going to have to keep Allison from Scott this time around.

Then, Stiles thought about lacrosse. Running with his the Gladers improved his physique, though it’s still not like it was in the Maze. He’s certain that if he tries out for lacrosse this time, he’ll get in—but admittedly, he doesn’t have time for that, nor does he want to be part of the lacrosse team anymore.

That’s it, he thought as he parked outside of the Gladers’ house. He could completely fail the tryouts. That could put some distance between the two of them—that is if Scott gets in. Then again, Scott only got in because of his werewolf upgrade.

How is he going to make sure that Scott gets in the lacrosse team without the upgrade?

He got out of the car and went inside—having a spare key. From the front door, he can see that Fry’s writing something by the kitchen counter. Minho’s staring at the TV with the volume on the low while Gally and Newt aren’t in his eyesight.

He approached Minho. “Newt’s in the basement?”

“Yeah,” Minho answered. “More letters arrived this morning.”

“Thanks.” He called out as he headed down the basement.

Over the weeks, it has been a common sight to see Newt hunched over a cauldron with a book open beside him. Today isn’t that different, but this time the book he’s reading on is well-worn and was about to fall apart. Newt’s face was wearing an expression of concentration—maybe a little bit of confusion.

“Newtie, you trying a new recipe without me?”

“Don’t call me that.” Newt looked up from the book and gave him a pointed look. “And, no—not technically. It’s rather an instruction on how to brew the potion with a better result.” Newt turned the book towards him and he noticed that it’s filled with scribbles on the side. Words were lined-out and corrected, observation was written at the very bottom.

Stiles hummed and commented. “Handy.” He turned the book on the very first page and saw that it belonged to a half-blood prince. Newt hasn’t mentioned the Magical world having royalties. “So, I was wondering if you got any potion that would –like, enhance someone’s performance in sports.”

Newt’s brows furrowed at him. “Why are you asking?”

“I said before that Scott McCall is—was my best friend.” Stiles started. “We were planning on joining the lacrosse team on the coming school year, I thought that I could use that as an excuse to put some distance between us –you know, like, life just got in the way and we parted naturally.”

“I’m going to assume that you want him to get in.” Newt moved around the room, pulling a book from the nearest shelf. Stiles would guess that it’s a list of potions.

“Yeah, he got in before because of his werewolf upgrade and we both know that’s never--ever going to be on the table for him. So, do you have anything that could help?”

“Felix Felicis.” Newt murmured. “Also called Liquid Luck, makes the drinker lucky for a certain time, during which everything they attempt would be successful. It takes six months to brew.”

“We only have a couple of days,” Stiles said. “Isn’t there anything else?”

Newt hummed. “Have you thought of using your Spark?”

“What?” If Stiles would be honest, he hasn’t—not really.

He’s been reading books after books on Sparks. He’d read the theories on how a Spark works their magic, but most of it is just that—theories. It seemed like books about Sparks are rare because Sparks is also rare. It’s very unlikely that they come out of their hiding any time soon and publish a book that would give Stiles a solid idea of how to use his Spark.

What’s mostly written is that Spark magic works on belief. As long as a Spark believes, they’ll be able to do anything. It’s one of the reasons why they’re sought after and one of the most powerful magic users there is.

All it got Stiles thinking about is Tinker Bell and Peter Pan—‘I do believe in magic. I do! I do!’

“That’s just a disaster waiting to happen, Newt.” He said to his friend.

Newt gave him a considering gaze. “How about this—you try to use your Spark to get McCall in the lacrosse team, spell, or will the ball to the goal. I’ll be watching the tryouts and be on the lookout. I’ll take over if your Spark is not—sparking.”

“Har-Har.” Stiles rolled his eyes at Newt. “How am I going to stop him from having an asthma attack once he starts running?”

Newt’s brows raised to his hairline. “McCall has asthma?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said the werewolf upgrade was the reason he got in the team.”

“You’ll magic our way when we get there.”

Stiles sometimes can’t believe Newt’s confidence in him, but at the same time, he’s thankful for it. He had people doubt him before. It had him feeling sorely inadequate. He can honestly say that having friends that value him, makes him…not want to be a better person, rather do better. For their sake, first and foremost. Because, if Stiles were, to be honest, he doesn’t necessarily care about the world. He cares about his friends—his pack.

* * *

Muggle School. Newt has no idea what to expect. He had spent almost all of his waking hours into research and brewing that he hadn’t bothered asking others about it. He’s somewhat familiar with the subjects after spending some time in the facility with doctors while they were looking for a cure. He’d even go so far as saying that some muggle subjects are similar to what he had studied in Hogwarts.

They have History—which is a given in any race, Newt thinks. There’s math, Newt thinks that’s closer to Arithmancy. Then there’s this thing they call Science which he found out has different branches. One is Chemistry that Newt thinks is close to Potions, so he’s not that worried about it. Looking at the textbooks now though, he’s starting to think that maybe he should have done some reading.

He’d admit that he did not stand out from the whole student body. He isn’t the smartest. He isn’t the most popular. Newt worked hard for his grades. And, while he is in the house of loyalty, he had trouble making friends.

He had lost count of the times he’s been compared to his grandfather. Whenever the comparison comes, it either in the form of worry or fond exasperation. Newt doesn’t mind being compared to Grand Da Newt. His grandfather went on amazing adventures and met people who became his true friends. Heck, his grandfather married a famous American Auror. He’s half certain that he’d do fine in his life.

Well, that was before.

Now…Now, he’s certain that he’s going to create a better future—and, if along the way it would let him have a fine life, he’ll take it. He’s one of the lucky ones in their group. He knows that. But, he isn’t naïve enough to think that he wouldn’t be sacrificing something of his for their endeavor.

A part of him is ready. A part of him is anxious. A part of him just wants it to be over with. He wants to pay the price upfront in full so that it won’t keep him up at night. But, that’s not possible. Newt has to take in a deep breath and calm himself—wait for the other shoe to drop and face it when the time comes.

The first day of school and they’ve already planned that whoever gets in the same class as Allison, Scott, and Tommy—one of the Gladers would lend Allison a pen and Tommy wouldn’t give any advice to Scott about it. If Newt would be the one who would be sharing a class with the future Argent Matriarch, he has something up his sleeve to help along with the manipulation of the Argents. It took him a good while to be able to use Legilimency wandlessly, but now he has it down to pat.

They arrived at the high school riding the pick-up that Gally insisted—and Newt can see why it’s the one Gally wants. He concedes that it is spacious. Well, he concedes mentally that it’s spacious. He doesn’t want Gally to be all smug.

He and Minho have lockers next to each other and his friend gave him a rundown of what it’s for. Newt can give it to the muggles, they found a way to work around the heavy bag. Though he still thinks a weightless charm would be better, because what if the student forgets to change the textbook they are carrying in between classes, right? It’s better to have it all in one bag. The logic got Minho snorting at him.

Following the directions on the school map that was given to him, he found his first class. He walked through the door and immediately saw Tommy in one of the chairs. Tommy—with all the subtlety that he doesn’t possess, started tilted his head to gesture at Allison Argent. He saw Scott McCall sitting in front of the girl.

Newt made his move. He sat on the free table at the other side of Allison as the girl was furiously rummaging her bag for a pen. He pulled out the pen from his pocket and draw it face level to her. She turned to him and he gave her a small smile.

“Newt Scamander.” He introduced himself making his accent obvious to be intriguing enough. “I’m new here and thought that the best way to make friends is to lend them a pen. Exhibit A.” He made a flourishing movement with his other hand at the pen—channeling a bit of the same wacky energy that Tommy mostly has the stockpile of.

Allison smiled at him. Probably finding his antics endearing. “I’m Allison.” She then grabbed the pen from his hand. “I’m new, too.”

To know what he should say next, Newt took a quick dive inside Allison’s mind. He wasn’t surprised to see that she is relieved that there is another new kid and she’s wishing that she wouldn’t be alone for lunch.“That’s great—want to have lunch together and compare this school to our former one? I can introduce you to the rest of the new kids. We could start a club—new kids ‘round the clock.”

That earned him a laugh from Allison. “Yes on the lunch and meeting the other new kids. Maybe about the club.”

“It’s the name isn’t it?” He playfully asked. “I told them we needed a cooler name.” New saw Tommy from the other side—eyes wide at him and mouthing the words ‘what the hell?’ Newt had forgotten that Tommy never really saw him work his charm—not to this extent.

“Yeah, the name might need a little work.” Allison’s smiling widely now.

“Well, we will have a group discussion about that during lunch.” Newt thinks it’s time to up his game a bit—make sure that Allison would be by his side the coming days. “For now, let me introduce you to the nice guy that’s the Sheriff’s son. You never know when you’re going to need to pull strings.” He gestured at Tommy. “That’s Stiles Stilinski—overall goof and nice guy. Stiles, this chipper of a person is Allison.”

Tommy was more than ready to back him up on his play. “Really, Newtie? You calling me a goof? That’s like the pot calling the kettle black.” He then turned to Allison. “And, I’m not nice.” He says with enough haughtiness that it comes out playful. “I’m going to cash in all the favors Newt owes me when he least expects it. Beware—but it’s great to meet you. You might bring in some class in Newt’s group of friends.”

“You’re part of my group of friends, Stiles.” Newt pointed out.

“Never said I’m classy,” Tommy answered and it got Allison chuckling as she stared back and forth the two of them.

Ah, nothing cures first day nerves than a good laugh, Newt thought to himself.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind being friends with the Sheriff’s son.” Allison looked at Tommy.

The class started the moment the teacher walked in, they're joking around and chatting came to a halt. It didn’t escape Newt’s notice how McCall would turn to Tommy now and then with a somewhat betrayed look on his face. It got Newt thinking that maybe the entitled mentality didn’t spring up from the werewolf bite.

Overall, the first contact, Newt thinks that it’s a success. He’s just going to have to be subtle in using magic on Allison and hope that he won’t be too tired by the end of the day to help Tommy on the try-outs.

The class ended with Allison asking what his next class would be, he smiled at her and pulled out his schedule and encouraged her to do the same. They compared scheduled and promised that they’d sit next to each other on the ones they share. He also told her that she should do the same with the rest of his friends once they meet her. Newt can see how grateful she is through her eyes –he’s thinking that Fry might fuss over her and she definitely needs some friendly fussing.

His next class, he shares with Tommy and Minho. The three of them sat at the back end of the class, huddle together before the teacher walks in. Tommy stared at him expectantly and Newt cast a wandless Muffliato so no one would listen in to what they’re talking about.

“There’s the usual teenage angst.” Newt started. “I saw something interesting though. It seems like the family picture the older Argents wants to show Allison isn’t as foolproof as they think. The girl saw glimpses of her parents fighting—she would even sneak around to hear better what they’re talking about. What she’s heard has mostly been them arguing about the family business—the supernatural kind. From what I saw, Victoria isn’t all in with raising Allison unaware that they’re Hunters.”

“We could use that to divide and conquer.” Tommy voiced out. “Also, eliminate Victoria. We could stage a hunting accident far from here.”

“A hunting accident would drive Allison away from us.” Minho pointed out—already in the Left-Hand mentality. “I agree with the accident, but it shouldn’t be the supernatural kind. It should be the Hunter kind. She must have butt heads with someone enough for them to hold a grudge against her.”

“I’ve never been buddy-buddy with the woman,” Tommy told them. “And, I never wanted to, to be completely honest. I don’t have any previous knowledge of her that would help with that. We’re going to need to do some serious digging. It would be hard since we’re starting with no leads.”

“I just need to…meet her once,” Newt said in a low voice—ready to maximize the use of his Legilimency. “A simple passing would be enough but I’ll need a magical boost. My magical core isn’t fully developed yet. It’s dangerous to push it to exhaustion.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Tommy stated confidently as a new teacher walked in the class and Newt cancel the spell around them. He doesn’t doubt that they would.

* * *

Allison thought that her first day is already ruined the moment she realized she forgot her pen. She was glad to be proven wrong. Newt swooped in with his friendly personality and willingness to make her a part of his group of friends. The boy mentioned that they would all be the new kids in the school and she wouldn’t be surprised if he had pulled them all together to create his clique. She can tell that Newt knows what it’s like to always be the new kid. It’s the only reason she can think of with how good Newt is at making her feel comfortable and put her worries at ease.

After her second class, she’s in another one that she’d be sharing with Newt. The moment she entered the class, Newt was already there and speaking with an Asian kid. She was lost for a moment, unsure if she should approach him or not. When Newt’s eyes landed at her, he smiled at her and gestured that he saved her a seat. Yeah, she’s going to be sticking with Newt.

“Minho,” Newt called out to the Asian kid. “She’s the one I was talking about. Allison, this is Minho—one of us new kids. And, Minho this is Allison. We’re expanding the group already.”

Minho smiled at her—his eyes curving into thin crescents on his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“Wow.” Minho breathed out. “Newt’s right, you are shy.” Allison couldn’t help but blush. She saw Newt nudged at Minho. “There’s nothing wrong with shy. I’m sure once you meet the rest of the group you’ll be wanting to abandon us before an hour is over.”

“Hey, don’t drive Allison away.” Newt chided Minho, and Minho sent Allison a playful wink.

“How did you guys meet?” She found herself asking.

“We knew each other on and off the years.” Minho started. “You see, our parents are ambassadors—so, we move a lot. Sometimes, we’re in the same country. Sometimes, we’re not. Though we’re constantly the new kids in any school we’re enrolled in the previous years.”

“We tried to keep in touch,” Newt added.

Allison can relate to that, though she wishes he had friends like Newt and Minho. All the friends she made before promised to keep in touch. Most of it only lasted for a few months before they all move on. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth remembering.

“Then, our parents noticed how…well, the constant moving around is affecting us.” Minho continued with his explanation. “It’s not easy—you move, you meet new people and hope that those are the people you’ll know for the rest of your life, then move again and be forgotten. Aside from the fact that you’re a year below those who are your actual age group.”

“It’s a depressing cycle.” Newt seconded.

“Then, our parents had this idea.” Minho paused for the effect. “They’re going to drop us off at the least exciting place in existence and let us live there—together but just us teens, long enough till we graduate from high school and let us decide what we want to do with our lives.”

Allison’s eyes widen in disbelief. “So, it’s just you guys in your place? No parents?”

“Just us, no parents but our parents’ lawyer did talk to the school’s guidance counselor and the Sheriff.” Minho clarified.

She turned to Newt. “Is that how you met Stiles?”

“No.” Newt’s answering smile got Allison thinking that he looks adorable. “When we were moving, our car broke down and came in our rescuer in the form of Stiles. We didn’t know that he was the son of the Sheriff back then. He never really told us, we just connected the dots with their shared last name and looks.”

“It’s cool that your parents let you guys live away from them.” She commented. “I don’t think my parents would ever let me do that—even when I’m already in my legal age.”

“Hey, maybe you can hang out in our place sometime,” Minho suggested. “Promise we’re all decent folks. We’ll even meet your Dad if it makes him feel better, assure him that you are in safe hands and we will respect your honor and all that pesky things parents worry about.”

“I’d like that.” Allison is certain that her Dad would give them a hard time, but the boys were genuine in their offer of meeting her Dad to reassure the man. She didn’t meet many people but she knows that it’s something that people who are serious in their offer does.

Their class started and she noticed that Newt was having a hard time following the lesson. Minho was helping him with understanding the equation but it seems like it’s just flying over Newt’s head. The British boy muttered something underneath his breath that the subject is more confusing than Arithmancy and it had Minho huffing a little laugh.

She got in the middle of them and explained the equation to Newt again, and this time he got it. He sent her an appreciative smile that she answered back with her own. She has a feeling that she’s making the right choice with being friends with Newt.

Lunchtime came, and it’s time to face the music. They went into the cafeteria and they waited for her to get her food, like some gentlemen she thought. Newt and Minho usher her to a table with two more guys in. The two were waiting for their friends before starting on their lunch.

One has very expressive eyebrows and the other is an African American that has the nicest smile that Allison has ever seen. “It seems like Newt adopted another one.” The smile just got better. “Hi! I’m Siggy, but most of them call me Frypan because I can cook.”

“I’m Allison.” If her name came out a little breathy, no one judged her for it.

“The quiet one is Gally.” Frypan pointed to expressive eyebrows.

They all took a seat and started chatting while having lunch. Frypan was friendly and sweet. He even offered Allison a portion of his food which Allison couldn’t deny. She was a little bit embarrassed by the moaning sound she made when she tasted it, but it was worth it when Frypan flashed her one of his bright smiles again.

“This is ridiculously good.” She covered her mouth as she speaks and chews at the same time.

“Thanks.” He preened under her compliment and it got her thinking that maybe… “I can cook your lunch for tomorrow if you want. What’s your favorite?”

“Oh, no. That’s—that’s too much—“

“Don’t be silly,” Frypan told her. “You’re one of us now. And, I do want to know what’s your favorite food because you can bet that I’ll be making it sooner rather than later.”

Newt piped in. “It’s better not to fight Fry about it. He asked Minho what food he misses, and now we have Kimchi fermenting in our fridge.”

She looked up at Frypan and he’s utilizing his puppy eyes. Allison couldn’t do anything but concede. The moment she told Frypan what her favorite meal is, she was promised that he would cook that for her before the week was even over.

They changed subjects that Frypan informed them that Gally walked in their last class with someone. Minho made ‘ooh-aah’ noises, which got Gally raising an eyebrow at him but Minho was just urging him on to share. “It was no one.” Gally avoided their eyes as he said it.

Newt hummed beside her and narrow his eyes at Gally. “It’s someone but you’re allowed your secrets.” He then turned to Frypan. “Were they good looking?” He playfully asked and Allison can just tell that teasing would ensue.

“The guy has a messy curly hair that I’m sure Gally is interested in running his fingers on.” That earned Frypan an elbow to the side from Gally but Frypan merely laughed it out.

Allison bit her lip as she smiled at their antics. From Gally’s intimidating look, she wouldn’t guess that he’s gay—or bi, she thought. Though, it got her wondering if the rest is the same as him. Well, she has time to get to know all of them.

Before lunch was over, they all compared schedules. She has one class with Gally in, two with Frypan in—which she’s just excited to have, she has more with Newt and Minho. She’s glad that she wouldn’t suffer a lot of subjects alone.

Her next class would be the one with Gally in it, and as they sat next to each other she noticed that one guy was sneaking glances at Gally. She gave the tallboy a tap on the shoulder and whispered her observation to him. It got Gally turning to the direction she mentioned, and the flush that took over his face was just so cute—Allison can’t wait to tell the others.

Her last class, she’s going to share with Frypan. She couldn’t stop herself from going to the bathroom and check her hair. Her Dad would be mortified with the fact that she has a crush on the first day of school, but it’s not like he’s going to be telling him.

It was a shame that they didn’t have the chance to talk to each other while they were in class. But, Frypan was sweet enough to walk her to her locker. They were talking about him walking her to the driveway and accompany her while she waits for her parents to pick her up when a girl walked up to her and complimented her jacket.

If it were a different situation, Allison would have been relieved. The proclamation of becoming her best friend is something that she’s been yearning for. From the way the other girl talk and act, she can tell that she’s talking with the queen bee. It has her breathing hitching a bit, because what if Frypan likes her instead of Allison.

A boy went up-close and personal with the queen bee, and Allison managed to breathe a little easier. The girl is taken and Allison is sure that Frypan isn’t someone who wants to get in between people. He just doesn’t seem the type.

The queen bee walked away as her invitation to a party was turned down. Though, Allison didn’t like the condescending look she gave Frypan before she walked away. But, she guesses she should be thankful because that means she has a chance with Frypan.

“Wow.” Frypan stared at her with a smile and awed expression. “You turned down the popular kids for time with family. That’s not something most kids our age do.”

“Family is important.” She told him as they walk out of the hall.

“It is.” Frypan agreed easily with her.

They walked by the driveway until they were in the parking lot. The rest of the group were huddled by a pick-up, she guesses that it’s their ride. She saw Newt’s eyes follow someone and curiosity got the best of her. She turned and saw her Dad leaning by the car, he hasn’t spotted her yet—busy with someone on the phone.

She turned back to Newt. “What is it?”

“He’s beautiful,” Newt told her and it got the rest of the group turning to the direction of her Dad.

Allison couldn’t help gaping at Newt. Adorable Newt who made her comfortable in all situations and let her join their group. Newt thought her Dad was beautiful. She’s heard a lot of people compliment her Dad, but none of them ever used the word beautiful.

“Allison!” Her Dad calling her snapped her out of her trance and so was Newt.

Newt stared at her with realization and mortification. “What?” He looked gobsmacked for a second before everything inside his brain caught up. “Let’s all pretend I didn’t say anything.” His face was as red as a tomato.

Allison realized that Newt isn’t like those teens that would call her Dad ‘Daddy’ whenever they think she’s not near. And, Newt would not be like the cougars who want her Dad for a night. Newt just developed a crush on her Dad, and she gets that.

“Allison!” Her Dad called her for the second time.

She turned for a minute and waved at her Dad to wait for a second before focusing back on Newt. “It’s okay.” She reassured her new friend. “Like, a lot of people think my Dad is hot.” She winced at that.

“The word used was beautiful.” Gally unhelpfully reminded everyone.

“Hey,” she chided him. “Be nice—it’s just a crush. It’s not like you don’t have it with teen curls.”

“Burn.” Minho murmured.

“I’m going now. I’ll ask my Dad about hanging out in your place.” She then stared at Newt. “You’ll still meet with him, right? If he needs to be assured?”

“Yes, of course.” Newt quickly said and Allison just felt giddy at the thought that Newt would meet her Dad. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“See you, guys!” She gave them one last smile and started jogging to meet her Dad.

Her Dad was looking at her meaningfully as he opens up the car door for her. She got in and he followed closely. He threw a look at the group before staring at her. “The first day of school and you already have a following.” He said as he started driving away from the school.

“Dad, they’re also new to the school—their parents are ambassadors that decided their kids deserve a vacation from the constant moving. They were nice enough to let me hang out with them during lunch—even introduced me to the son of the Sheriff.” She informed her Dad and she’s pulling every card in the deck for her Dad to let her be friends with them. “And, before you even get started, one of them likes a boy and another likes older men. They won’t be asking for my hand any time soon.”

“What?” The look on her Dad’s face was just precious.

“Don’t tell me you’re homophobic?”

“What!” It was an exclamation more than a question. “I’m not homophobic.”

“Good, because they invited me to hang out with them and are willing to meet you so that you wouldn’t freak out.”

“Well, I’ll be happy to meet your new friends.”

* * *

Stiles received Scott’s hurt puppy look number three which he also calls imagined slight expression from not being introduced to Allison. He reasoned that he didn’t know that Newt would introduce him to Allison and found it weird to introduce Scott since Scott doesn’t know Newt. The conversation then proceeded on as if Stiles is being interrogated on why he hasn’t introduced Scott to Newt along with Newt’s group of friends—highlighting the fact that they were best friends.

He kind of feels guilty about the best friend thing. This Scott is not yet the Scott that turned Stiles away, but Stiles can already see the makings of that Scott. Then, remembering Peter’s lessons with his Betas, the Alpha mentioned that the wolf inside them is just their baser instincts made stronger and given a shape of their own. Stiles is starting to realize that –wolf or not, the possibility of Scott turning his back on Stiles has always been there.

If he thinks about if hard enough, Stiles can have a flimsy grasped as to why. Scott has a fairytale-esque view of justice and second chances. In some way, despite how he was treated by his father, Scott grew up with a rose-tinted glass over his eyes. While Stiles, well, he has always been aware that it’s not always black and white. If it’s because he has his eyes opened up to him by his Dad, or because he had to grow up faster to take care of his Dad—it doesn’t matter. Stiles operates on the greyscale, and grey isn’t a good look on tinted glasses.

At lunch, Stiles can see all the sneaking glances that Scott throws that Newt’s table. He can understand the longing, Scott’s currently a teenager, it is okay to groan and moan about a girl. God knows he did it the same to Lydia for an embarrassingly long time. But, he doesn’t understand the indignation radiating off Scott. Stiles asking himself where it came from, but only Scott can answer that question.

He let his eyes wander at Newt’s table and hummed beneath his breath. Allison is looking at Fry with an awestruck impression. Now, that’s interesting. It seems like Allison likes sweet guys. Stiles has half the mind to use that to his advantage, but he wouldn’t do that to Frypan. He lost so much already.

If there’s anyone from there group who should be risking their future happiness, it should be him and Newt. That should be the price for them being able to keep their family. Then again, it’s still unfair to Newt.

Stiles had always wanted Peter—well, maybe not always. But, one can’t expect two people to be stranded in a life or death situation and not have affection blossom for each other. Peter sacrificing himself for Stiles is what solidified it. It was one of the main things that Stiles couldn’t sleep at night.

While, Newt, he’s going to be manipulating Chris Argent. Newt would be wearing a mask his whole damn life and could only take it off when he is alone with Stiles. Newt wouldn’t let his mask falter in front of the rest of their friends, because Newt doesn’t want the rest to know that he also gets hurt, gets lonely, and he also needs rest.

Stiles was brought back to the present by Scott’s haughty voice. “I still think you could have introduced me to her.”

He outright rolled his eyes at Scott. “We’re not having this same conversation for the third time.” He elected to change the subject with an agenda in mind. “Are you ready for the try-outs?”

The change of subject was enough to lighten the mood between the two of them. Scott rattled off about how ready he is and it didn’t come as a surprise to Stiles when Allison was again brought up in the conversation. Man, he’s going to need patience with this one. “You think she’ll watch try-outs?”

The pieces have been set, Stiles smiled his encouraging smile and ready to let go of his best friend. “It doesn’t matter, once you are in and popular—she’d have to take notice of you.” A realization light up Scotty’s eyes and Stiles knew he laid everything right.

They went their separate ways for the rest of the day before meeting up at Scott’s locker the tryout. Stiles can still see the looks Scott keeps throwing Allison’s way and he’s half happy and half nervous that Fry sticks close to the Argent. One of the students moans about Allison being noticed by Lydia when she just arrived—Stiles barely remembers the quip he did back then.

This time, he uses it to reinforce the popularity idea inside Scotty’s mind. It’s completely underhanded, still, he can’t find it in himself to feel too bad about it. There’s no room for those kinds of feelings when the goal is to keep the world from burning.

They got changed for the tryouts. Stiles hasn’t completely thought of an idea of how he is going to help Scott get into the team. He managed to breathe a little easier when he noticed Newt hanging close to the benches in the field with his game face on. If his Spark doesn’t do it’s…sparking, at least Newt could cover for him.

The warm-up already sends dread throughout Stiles. He notices the little huffing of breath that Scott does whenever an asthma attack is close. He let himself fall behind and act sluggish while coming up with an idea on how to stop Scott from having an attack.

Most of the books he read mentioned how Sparks only needs belief to bend the magic to their will. Thinks it and it will happen. He started mentally chanting that Scott wouldn’t have an asthma attack and observed closely if it’s going to work. After noticing that Scott’s condition is only getting worse, Stiles thought of a different approach.

He started thinking back—back to the first time he lived this day. Scott’s breathing was steady and he was competent in the field. He replayed the memory inside his mind and started imagining it being pushed out—thinking that the same will happen today. It will.

Stiles’ felt a shift inside him. It wasn’t a pull or pull. He doesn’t feel like he’s being drained out. There was just a subtle twitch inside him. It didn’t take his breath away, but it made him straighten his posture. His senses sharpened—colors seemed brighter and the details of his surrounding livelier.

There wasn’t any snapping of electricity around him nor blinding light. All there is was Scott’s breathing slowly evening out, confidence being gained one foot at a time. Somehow, it was spookier without the fairytale element.

He chances a glance to his side and saw Newt wearing a small yet proud smile.

The tryout went out almost the same from his first timeline. Scott managed to make saves that he wouldn’t have without the werewolf senses—or this time, Stiles’ spark. Jackson looked suspicious and pissed. The difference is, there’s no Allison and Stiles tries his level best to fail badly.

It was only when Scott got in that Stiles felt he could finally breathe easier. His sigh was misconstrued as one of disappointed by Scott. He smiled as Scott gave him an encouraging pat on his shoulder and he gave his friend what he thinks is a thankful smile.

The ones that didn’t get in were dismissed earlier. He didn’t bother with washing the sweat and grime off him. He just got changed and headed to his jeep. Newt was leaning back on the hood of his car. “Took you long enough,” Newt said to him.

He unlocked his car for both of them and got in. They have plans on putting upwards around the preserve to keep the werewolves of their pack safe. Newt would have to do it in sessions until the full moon because his magical core isn’t big enough and Stiles doesn’t know how to transfer his magic without the use of his blood. He’s starting to see how important it is to develop that ability first from the way Newt’s hands shake.

“We have tomorrow.” He said to the wizard. “We can do this tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” Newt told him. “Nothing a little Girding potion couldn’t fix.” He changed the subject quickly. “I lay down the foundation around Chris. Allison’s comfortable around us and genuinely likes Fry.”

“I managed to plant an idea inside Scott’s mind that would help me in distancing myself from him.”

“That’s good.” Newt turned to him. “You did well on using your spark. It was subtle.”

“It was like using the power of my imagination. I got a flashback of Shark boy and Lava girl with the chorus of one of the songs in the movie.”

“Movie?” Newt asked with a frown. “Is that those things that we watch on the little small box?”

“Newt, sometimes, I don’t know if you’re fucking with me.”

Newt’s answering snort was answer enough and Stiles knows that this shank next to him is his best friend. They’re both little shits—it’s why they get along nicely. It’s why he knows how Newt’s burden would affect him both in the short and long run of things and he doesn’t want this for Newt.

“We could find another way…to control the Hunters.”

“It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“It’s something I can be fine with depending on how good of a manipulator I am.” Newt honestly answered him and that made Stiles appreciate their friendship more. “We have potions, you know, that can make people fall in love—I can use that, the Ministry of Magic permitted me to do everything necessary for the survival of magic. It doesn’t end well for both parties, though—so that’s a no. I have to coax real emotions from Chris Argent. I have to make him want me to the point wherein he needs me, want and need are easily deduced as love, even if it is not.”

“You need him to love you.” Stiles simplified. “Why?”

Newt hesitated for a moment to explain. “It’s the only way I’ll feel safe around him. The potion, if he missed a dose, he’d return to his normal self with the memories of everything I’ve done to him. I’m not risking that. I need his affection to be real—it would be harder to fight or shake off.”

“I’ll still think of a back-up plan.” Stiles insisted. “Just…know that this part of our plan can be adjusted to suit you.”

“You have such a sweet spot for me, Tommy.” Newt teased before going serious. “Thank you.”

* * *

Peter read the books Newt lent him as much as he can during his free time. To say that he is fascinated by the culture of the Magical community would be an understatement. From what he read, the Wizards or Witches also have a level of fascination for those who don’t have magic—in other words, muggles. He heard Newt say the word more than twice when he is around. He wondered if the words shank, klunk, shuck, and slinthead are among the magical vocabulary or something else entirely.

Moving on from the book, he chooses between a book about proper etiquette or history. He decided on the former since it’s more excusable not to be knowledgeable about another’s history than not have manners according to their community despite not being one of them. His charm had made several…tasks as the Hale Left Hand easier with politeness and manners. It’s not always killing—sometimes it’s shady deals, then killing if the deals aren’t met accordingly.

He read through proper introductions and conduct during an informal affair through the dress code in a formal event when his pack arrived. He closed the book with a snap as he got up from the bed. Newt, as usual, opened the case and got in first. He gestured for Stiles to go in second before him.

Inside, his Betas waited for him. Minho’s left knees jerking up and down, Gally pacing restlessly and Frypan seemed to be rearranging whatever it was in the cupboard. He can feel the moon drawing near. When he was around the same age as they were, he was snappish. He supposes it’s better to have level headed Betas than any other alternative.

Frypan was the first to move to scent him, Minho was second and Gally—he always goes in last. Peter doesn’t think it’s in defiance. Peter can see that Gally likes to take other people’s consideration before his. It’s an admirable trait for the pack’s Right Hand.

He informed Newt that they would be using the artificial forest habitat and he wasn’t even shocked when the two magic users in his pack followed after them. Newt and Stiles are protective of the Betas—not as much as Gally is protective of them but close enough. They expect Peter to do right by the newly turn werewolves, Stiles more so than Newt. He isn’t even offended by them watching him closely on how he treats the Betas. He likes it—he’d freely admit that much, it’s how packs should be.

Training Frypan is a delight. He has poorer control over his wolf—poorer compared to the first two he had trained, but in control still. Being the strongest of the bunch, aside from Peter, and never losing his touch of sweetness. Almost like a gentle giant.

Frypan has a harder time interpreting his instincts. He listens well enough but isn’t certain what the wolf wants. But upon finding an anchor, Frypan got better at it—still takes a while but he is getting better each day.

They have control under their belts, and it’s only a matter of time before Peter teaches them how to fight. He knows Minho and Gally wouldn’t have a problem with it. He can’t say it’s the same for Frypan. He’ll worry about it once they get there, for now, he’d teach them how to feel the moon without being outwardly affected by it.

He started with the story—a myth of how werewolves came to be. With it, came the lesson as to why bitten werewolves have a harder time resisting the temptation of bloodlust during the full moon. He told them that their will has to be stronger than their baser instincts. Ingraining the thought of their anchor deeply inside their mind and focusing on it by meditating while the full moon draws closer will help them. Newt and Stiles were listening just intently as the werewolves and he appreciates that.

The session of meditating was more on soothing their wolf than getting to know them. Peter assured them that getting to know their wolves would be a lifetime process. The wolf in them changes as much as they change, age can play a role in their base instincts after all.

With his Betas now more at ease than before, they head back to the picnic table. It was obvious that they have some information to share with him. Another thing he likes about this pack, the boys have initiative.

Without so much of a preamble, Newt spoke. “The Argents are in town.”

Peter couldn’t help the growl that ripped through his clenched teeth. Frypan whimpered as the Betas bare their necks for him. He closed his eyes and opened it as he exhaled. “My apologies.” He said. “That particular family and I aren’t amicable towards each other.”

“We know,” Minho said. “Thomas and Newt have a plan.”

“Is that your real name?” He turned to Stiles.

“It’s not even close.” Stiles snorted a laugh. “They call me Thomas—well, except for Newt. He always calls me Tommy.”

Normally, Peter would be suspicious of a person with many aliases but he’s certain that if Stiles wanted him gone, he’d wouldn’t take the long route in eliminating Peter. “What should I call you?”

“Stiles.” He answered easily—as if it was a no brainer. Maybe it was.

“Stiles, Newt.” He addressed them as they got back to their original topic. “What is this plan Minho has spoken of?”

“Manipulation,” Newt said and Peter thought that it’s just right up his alley. “Also, murder.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at Newt’s antics. “We’ve mentioned that the Nemeton is calling out to other supernatural creatures, right? Right. So, we place you here as a protector and lead the supernatural community into their reintroduction to the magical community. With the reintroduction, it’s obvious that we’re going to mention the Hunters. The thing is, we need the Hunters community to be a bridge between the normal people and the supernatural and magical ones. We need them on our side.”

“Or, we could just eliminate all of them.” Peter pointed out. “Newt did say murder.”

“How do you think the government will react once they find out that the supernatural and magical erased a whole community that has protected people for thousands of years?” Stiles asked him.

“Why are you so certain that the world will find out about the supernatural and magical?”

“It’s only a matter of time.” Stiles’ tone broke no argument. “It doesn’t matter when they will find out but rather how they will find out. We could use this time we have to gain allies that would back us up or enemies that would cut us down.”

“Do you think that Argents would simply play ball with us? And, if you don’t know yet, there are other Hunter families out there.”

“We know.” Newt piped up. “Still, we can’t simply dismiss the power that lies in the Argent name. They’re respected, and most importantly is the head family of the Hunter community. They will listen to the Argents.”

“They have a Matriarch leadership—it means Kate is next in line. You promised me she will get her due-“

“And, she will.” Stiles cut him off. “Here’s the plan. We kill Victoria, Chris Argent’s wife before we get Kate arrested so it wouldn’t look too suspicious. Gerard will no doubt be tangled in Kate’s arrest and will most certainly be arrested, too. That leaves us with Chris and Allison—they’re the good ones, they follow the code and Allison can certainly be molded to be a Matriarch that would benefit the supernatural and magical.”

“And how are you going to manipulate the girl?” He asked. “Seduce her?” He noticed Stiles threw a worried look at Newt.

“I’ll seduce Chris Argent.” Newt proclaimed and from the Betas shocked reaction it seems like that’s one part of the plan they didn’t know about. “Tommy and I were thinking of influencing her right from the start, but we know that she would need support. Chris strictly follows the code and is seen to be a touch sympathetic to the supernatural. It would seem that they merely share the same inclination rather than being manipulated.”

“The beautiful comment,” Gally muttered and it got Peter raising an eyebrow. “They’re already laying out the foundation of the plan.” He turned to Newt. “How about Allison’s attraction to Fry? Would he need to act differently around her?”

“I admit the attraction was unexpected, but no.” From Newt’s steady pulse the werewolves knew that he was saying the truth. “They can go on as they are now—building a budding romance, it could be a plus factor but I’m not laying all my eggs on that one basket. Romantic love is fickle, unlike friendship and camaraderie.”

Peter couldn’t help but agree with Newt’s assessment as he let the wizard continue.

“Once she finds out and understand that she can do something for the status quo to change, and takes the opportunity to change the Hunters community despite how scandalous it would be for her, then that means we succeeded in influencing her the right way.” Newt stared at all of them. “It would take years before we can reap the fruits of our labor.”

“You’re in for the long con,” Peter observed. “All of these in fear of being known.”

“All of these for when we are known.” Stiles corrected him. “We have to be proactive in keeping the peace.”

There is a story there, Peter can tell. The boys fear being known and are certain that they will be. With that in mind, Peter connected the dots. “Someone already knows.” The silence that took over was telling, no one wanted to speak up and Minho took the responsibility for telling their story.

“We were taken, but not before our packs were hunted down.” Minho’s eyes gazed over—remembering. “They took us because they thought that there is something in our blood that will cure diseases because we run with wolves. They experimented on us, draw liters and liters of blood till we’re weak and passing out, unsure if we’d even wake up.”

Now, their anchors made sense. “Are you certain that they’re not associated with Hunters?” Peter asked.

“If they are, then we have more reasons to change their leadership.” Minho has a good point though Peter loathes admitting.

Staring at his Betas, Minho looked a touch pale, Frypan is sitting uncomfortably, and Gally wore an expression of shame. Here they are—the survivors of their packs massacre. Somehow, their coming together made all the more sense to Peter.

“You’ll be dealing with this while I am away?” Peter knows that Stiles and Newt are not asking for his permission. They are simply informing him. He should be offended. He is the Alpha, but thinking back to what Stiles mentioned. They’re being proactive in keeping peace and therefore proactive in keeping the pack safe, just like he was when he was Left Hand. He can’t fault them for that.

“That’s the plan.” Stiles made a light quip.

“I trust that you will keep me informed.” Peter then added. “I’m sure I’ll be able to help out more once I’ve finally healed in the eyes of the public.” He doesn’t like the fact that he’s not being much of a help to his pack at the moment.

“You’ll be doing the heavy lifting soon enough,” Stiles assured him. “For now, let us lay the groundwork for everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you feel the progress?


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To howl at the moon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Thanks to everyone who took the time reading this story. I'm writing like crazy because this project is just massive and I don't want the muse to escape my grasps. Seeing the kudos and reading comments helps with fueling my soul. Hahaha. I'm extremely thankful, guys. This might seem like a weird story from reading the tags. That might be one of the reasons why not much people read this. Well, anyway...let's just enjoy this, yeah?
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I do proofread. Please pardon the mistakes that gets pass me. I am only human. On to the story...

Newt prefers to think about the present and the future rather than the past. It’s easy enough to understand why but the subconscious is one for obeying. There are some memories deeply embedded in his mind that even if he forces himself to forget about it, it manifests itself in his dreams. The images of his mother letting out a fierce cry as she protects them as if they are her Wampus younglings frequents his sleeping hours.

He knows he is not the only one plagued by memories turned into nightmares, but he is the only one that doesn’t have the benefits of werewolf health. There’s only so many potions he can drink before exhaustion finally catches on. The rest are starting to see it, too—or smell it on the cases of the werewolves.

Frypan gives him concern looks every morning along with a hearty breakfast. Minho is volunteering to do his laundry. Gally stays with him in the basement even when the fumes irritate his nose just to assist him whenever he needs something carried. Tommy is beside himself thinking of a way to transfer his magic to Newt. Peter’s helping him sort out information from the book he lent about the Nemeton.

Those little things are helping him, Newt admits—but what he really needs is to stop using his magic for a while. They don’t have that option though. Right now, he’s their ace in the hole and he will be until Tommy knows how to use his Spark or Peter sets his footing in the supernatural and magical community.

It’s the third day setting upwards in the preserve. He feels sluggish and tired. His hands shake as he holds up his wand in the air and his lips hesitate in casting the spell.

He had learned enough about Allison to not use his Legilimency whenever they’re together, but he’s still using more magic than he is not. If he couldn’t find a way to replenish his magic or push his magical core to maturation, he will need weeks before he is back to normal. Magical exhaustion is something that would render him useless for a long while, he is half afraid of getting to that point.

“Protego totalum.” He waved his wand. “Salvio Hexia. Cave Inimicum.” He repeated the spells following their proper wand movement until he felt that the warding in the preserve had extended. It didn’t cover the size that he was aiming for, but he’s so close to magical exhaustion that if he pushes—he is sure he would pass out.

He let his hands fall to his sides heavily. He doesn’t even think he has the strength in him to wipe off the sweat running down the sides of his face. Newt can feel his weakened knees, he’s afraid of moving from where he is standing. It’s all bad signs.

“Newt?” Tommy carefully called out to him.

Newt closed his eyes—unwelcomed memories played behind his eyelids.

Hogwarts –the safest places, being bombed. The fearful cry of the younger students, teenagers trying to calm them down, while protective enchantments thrown by the teachers all over the place. They were surrounded and somehow the muggles figured out how to cut the connection of their Floos. There was no warning, no option for a peaceful surrender—the sole option is to fight.

A flash of light—even knowing it’s just from the memory, got Newt flinching back.

The Order of Phoenix coming back to life with new members to face another threat, along with other people alive during the Battle of Hogwarts. Lord Potter and Lord Malfoy taking the lead, their seconds Weasley and Zabini, while Minister of Magic Granger lay down plans after plans.Professor Longbottom joining them in the hope to protect the students. And Newt’s family, all of them—standing next to each other and promising Newt that they would get out of the place alive.

When the protective enchantments were finally penetrated and bullets rain down on them, the fight was taken to a degree that it shouldn’t have. The adults didn’t hold back. It was something to behold—the Golden Trio fighting side by side effortlessly. The rest of the Weasleys and the Malfoy patriarch being in-sync with their attacks. Professor Longbottom and his mother fought with familiarity, with his father and brothers.

But, the muggles had a hidden weapon. A gas that weakens any magic-user. It had the adults falling to the ground with shuddered breaths and never waking up. Minister Granger dispelled it but the amount of magic needed took her life. One by one the adults started dying—and the teens, they know they are next in line to protect the younger ones.

So, they took their stand.

Gryffindors leading the attack heedless of the danger and taking down as many as they can. Slytherins using dark spells that would have only been pass down by word of mouth. Ravenclaws figuring out exit routes for the younger students and making sure no soldier or hunter could follow them. Hufflepuffs covering for the Ravenclaws, of them go with the children and make sure they’ll get to their parents, while the rest support the Gryffindors and Slytherins in the frontlines. Hufflepuffs kept everyone coordinated throughout the fight.

There was a handful of them after the battle. They looked around them and couldn’t believe the number of bodies surrounding them—dead bodies. Newt, still in disbelief that he survived, started searching frantically for his family.

He found his brothers first—Lorcan and Lysander, dead next to each other with their wands still in their hands. Newt couldn’t stop the anguished cry that tore his throat. Next was his father, buried under rubbles curled protectively over a student that also died. Newt’s weeping sobs echoed all over. The last one was his mother, her ice blond hair framed her face as she lies lifeless on the ground with a bullet wound on her chest. Newt gathered her in his arms –not minding the blood, and hugged her one last time.

“Newt.”

A familiar voice was calling him.

“Newt, open your eyes.”

When did he even close it?

“Newt, please…”

He let out a groan as he did as he was asked. Amber eyes looking at him with worry lighting it. “Tommy…” The name came in a form of a whisper. “Tommy…”

Arms were holding him—he is pressed onto a warm body. Tommy let out a surprised noise. Black spots were dancing at Newt’s peripheral. “Newt—Newt, keep your eyes open.” Tommy was pleading to him but he was just tired—sleepy. “You can sleep when we get home –just –just keep your eyes open for me.”

Darkness has taken over Newt—along with the images of his dead family.

* * *

Stiles didn’t hesitate in wrapping Newt’s arm around his neck as he attempted to carry his friend and curled his around Newt’s waist. He’s cursing his weak body at the moment as he struggles on half carrying and half dragging Newt back to his jeep. He feels like his heart is beating to a four-four time and soon it would be beating out of his chest.

He knew that Newt hasn’t been getting any proper rest. No amount of glamour can hide the weariness that is present in his eyes. He’s been telling Newt that he should slow down in using his magic, but his concern has been shrugged off. He knows that Newt wouldn’t listen to him so he started taking a different approach. Instead of slowing Newt down, he will just look for a way to keep Newt from faltering.

He has been researching for a way to use his Spark to transfer magic to Newt. So far, he hasn’t had any luck. Everything about Spark has something to do with their belief and will. Trust him when he said that he had already willed his magic to be transferred to Newt during multiple occasions. Again, no luck. It is starting to frustrate him to no end.

Stiles tried to gently lay Newt on the passenger seat of his jeep. He had a problem with Newt’s long limbs, but he managed. He got in and started the engine—breaking several traffic laws while he drives back to their house. He doesn’t have any plan in mind. All he knows is that he should get Newt home.

The erratic beating of his heart must have been heard –or maybe it’s his distressing scent. The werewolves were out the door the moment he cut off the engine of his jeep. Gally went straight for Newt and carried him bridal style inside the house. Minho and Frypan following after as they ask him questions after questions.

“He fainted.” He told them. “He was putting upwards around the preserve—extending it according to how big of an area he wants to cover, and he just dropped his hands and stopped muttering the spells. I walked up to him and he wasn’t responding –he had his eyes closed. I kept calling out to him until he opened his eyes, he recognized me but after that, he fainted.” He let his mouth run a while a minute.

Gally got up the stairs and into Newt’s room, they all followed him. He lay the unconscious teen on the bed and started taking off Newt’s jacket and shoes. “He hasn’t been sleeping—we all know that, and on top of that he’s been overexerting himself.”

“Is there any potion in the basement we can use?” Minho asked shifting his weight from left to right.

“He can’t take too much potion,” Stiles recalled what Newt has told him. “There are still side effects on that stuff and I would not want to know what would happen if he drinks too much Girding potion.”

“There must be something.” Frypan insisted.

“Even if there is, Newt has only taught me beginners’ potion.” Stiles wouldn’t dare go into the Potion’s laboratory and brew a new potion without Newt’s guidance. God, even when Newt was with him he still manages to make mistakes that led to few explosions just because he cut the goddamn wormwood the wrong way.

“We need to take this discussion to the living room and let Newt rest,” Gally told them and they saw the merit in that. “Right…” Gally commandeered their attention once they were in the living room.“We are still training with Peter, the wards only activates with Newt and Greenie here, and we obviously don’t feel comfortable enough to leave Newt alone.” The last part was a no brainer for all of them. It would be stupid to leave Newt along while he is unconscious.

“We take him with us.” Minho was quick to say. “We move him to the cabin in the case and Thomas would carry us to the hospital.”

“Any objections?” Gally asked them and they found none.

Frypan and Minho run up the stairs as quietly as they can. Stiles let himself fall on the sofa—letting all his anxiousness take over him. He felt useless at the moment. Shame is curling around his neck, trying to suffocate him.

Newt pushed himself too far because of his plans and he could not even give a part of his magic to his best friend. When Newt needed him, he let himself fall into panic and it forced Gally to take lead. He ran a hand over his buzz-cut hair.

“The two of you do know that you can rely on us, right?” Gally asked him as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Stiles looked up, a little confused. “What? Yeah, we know.”

“Do you really?” Gally’s expression says he’s not all that sold. “The two of you act as if you are the only ones who can carry the heavy load of this whole…back in time to save and the world and all that klunk. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

“No!” Stiles’ voice went an octave higher. “Of course, we know we can rely on you guys—but you’ve already done too much for…all of this. You left your families and packs, you got turned into a werewolf, and there’s no guarantee that you’ll ever see your family or pack again. You guys have done enough. It’s time for us to do our part—well, it’s time for me to do my part but hell if I know how to use my Spark. What’s the shucking use for it if I can’t control it?”

Gally gave him an unimpressed stare. “Are you done?” Stiles wisely kept his mouth shut and simply nodded. “We know we had to make sacrifices and we choose so to protect our family and pack even if they never know. What’s the point of being with them if they’d die? Being turned into a werewolf is a blessing, being part of the pack is just solidifying our friendship with each other. We haven’t lost as much as you think, Thomas. The sooner you realize that the sooner you will see that we’re here and we’re a shucking team—isn’t that what yours and Newt’s speeches are always about? Get your head out of your ass, Greenie.”

Stiles gaped at Gally. “Did you just—did you just gave a slightly emotional speech about our team?”

“Oh, my God. You’re such an asshole.” Gally looked so done with him Stiles couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that erupted from his chest.

“Thanks, Gally.” He said once he had calmed down. “Could you give Newt the same speech?”

Gally huffed his amusement.

* * *

Peter has been faking his recovery well enough that doctors think it’s miraculous but not scientifically impossible. He kept his ‘progress’ on the steady incline but makes acts of falter with an equally faked triumph over it. He finds it all so tedious.

He also made a show of calling out to different doctors from different continents so that the doctors in Beacon Hills won’t be blindsided once he ups and leaves. He voiced out to the psychiatrist that he’s been seeing mandatorily about the desire to get plastic surgery. He moaned about not wanting to have a constant reminder of his family’s demise every time he stares into a mirror. He said all the right things, showed all the right emotions, and was charming enough to pass as a man mourning but ready to move on.

Between acting and reading about the magical community, he has been reaching out to his contacts. His most trusted ones. He had the money from the house fire settled and under his name. It would be enough to cover some of his hospital expenses until he gets ahold of his family bonds. He wonders if his niece and nephew were aware of it. The petty side of him wishes they aren’t, the other part—the concerned uncle in him, wishes they are. Then again, he’s certain that both Laura and Derek would be set for life with just their inheritance. He supposes he doesn’t have to worry about it all too much.

That night, Stiles walked in his hospital room with a more subdued demeanor. Peter took in the younger man’s scent and picked up the smell of wood that is burning. It almost made him flinch—a reminder of the Hale pack burning. It made him want to ensure that Stiles would never get lonely or even simply worry.

He let himself be led inside the case and watched as Stiles's head straight to the cabin without a snarky remark—just a direction as to where he can find his Betas. He walked to their designated habitat for the night and saw that the Betas were filled with nervous energy. It’s not relating to the upcoming full moon. He stared at them. They squirmed under his gaze—taking his role seriously, Gally spoke up.

“Newt’s passed out.” Gally started and it made Peter tense. He never did like it when a member of his pack was hurt. “He wasn’t attacked—it’s magical exhaustion.”

“Are there no means to aide him with that?” He asked.

“Stiles said that Newt had enough of the potion he takes whenever he’s close to tiring himself out. He says Newt can’t take much of it because there are still side effects.”

Gally’s words were clipped and well calculated. Signs that his Beta is not lying to him but he is omitting some information. Peter raised an eyebrow at him. A silent inquiry and a challenge if he’d dare hold back information from his Alpha.

The Beta sighed. “The Greenie is blaming himself because of it. I managed to shake off some of his guilt, but I think he’d need more support.” Gally continued. “He and Newt trust us with their lives, but that doesn’t mean they’d want to burden us with anything at all. They’re doing that lone wolf act and they need to know we’re here—especially the Greenie.”

Peter honestly wants to know why Gally calls Stiles ‘Greenie’, but that’s a matter for a different day. “Stiles’ guilt is making you all…queasy.” It came out more like a question than a statement. Peter’s unsure which word to use at his Betas current state.

At first, they were nervous about seeing him. Then, they seemed relieved that Gally brought up the issue. After that, they seemed unsure if they did the right thing.

Peter then remembered that while the three Betas in front of him respects his Alpha status that doesn’t mean they see him as the leader of their group. Well, not yet. This could be a test or merely an opportunity for him to show them that he appreciates what Stiles and Newt did for him. He appreciates it enough to support each member of the pack—care for them, would support them, protect them, and die for them.

“Run around.” He told them. “Burn off the nervous energy and the moon’s pull. I’ll talk to Stiles.”

Frypan let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Minho seconded. “We know Thomas would listen to you but we just didn’t know if you’d—you know, talk to him.”

So, it seems that Gally was the only one with reservations about him. Peter approves of them even more. As to what Minho mentioned, he’d get back to that some other time. Again, more pressing matters to attend to.

“Run along, pups.” He said to them as he walked back to the cabin.

Opening the door, he saw Stiles sitting in one of the available desks with a book open before him. It seems that the younger man had been staring at it for a while now. Probably willing the words in the book to make sense to him or show him some kind of revelation that would lead to Newt waking up.

He grabbed a stool by the door and placed it next to Stiles’ chair. At a close distance, there’s a touch of salt coating Stiles’ skin. It didn’t take Peter long enough to realize that his boy had been crying—silently, too, since it didn’t carry out to the habitats.

He sat on the stool, legs spread to trap Stiles in between. Peter rested his forehead on Stiles’ cheek and rubbed himself gently on the young man. He placed his hands on the backrest of Stiles’ chair and another hand across Stile’s stomach to his left waist. A facsimile of an embrace.

He took in a deep breath. The smell of burning wood turned into freshly burnt ash with a taste of salt. It makes him want to whine out for Stiles’ inner pain, but he held it in as he held Stiles closer to him. “Darling, talk to me.”

It’s normal for an Alpha to soothe a pack member’s pain. But, Peter knows that this…whatever this is, between him and Stiles is more than just an Alpha comforting a member of the pack. A part of him is concerned about it, the other thinks that as long as it feels right—then, there’s nothing he should worry about. Peter sometimes envies his wolf’s simple thinking.

Stiles leaned into him and Peter’s wolf let out a purr. It was his wolf’s way of telling him that this is where Stiles belong. Peter, though, is aware that Stiles’ also belongs in high school—for the next two years.

“I couldn’t get it to work, Peter.” There was shame oozing out of Stiles’ pores as he confesses to what the younger man thinks is a crime. “What use is an endless pool of magic if I can’t get it to work? Or, even just share it. God, Newt wouldn’t be lying exhausted right now if I could use this fucking Spark. I managed to use it on Scott but not on Newt—not on my fucking best friend who has been holding us afloat these past months. I’m so fucking use—“

“Don’t.” Peter didn’t growl nor snarl, but the command in his voice is undeniable. “Never, darling. Never.” He lifted one hand to gently coax Stiles to look at him. “You’ve just come into your magic, Stiles. Newt had years of formal education and family that also does magic. You have to be kind to yourself—even if only a little.”

Amber eyes tinged with red met Peter’s blue. Stiles is looking at him as if he holds the solution to their problem. Peter doesn’t want to disappoint. He’s always been good at figuring out how things worked.

“Now, tell me, how did you use your Spark on Scott?” He has no idea who that person is but Stiles said the name with such vitriol that Peter would be on the lookout.

“A memory.” Stiles started. “I used the memory of him doing great in lacrosse that he got into the lacrosse team. The problem is I got no memory of me sharing my Spark to Newt.”

Peter hummed under his breath. “You’re thinking far too literally, darling.” Stiles leaned in closer—any more and they would—“Do you remember Newt when he was at his most powerful?”

“Yes.” Came a barely-there answer from Stiles’ lips.

“Then, close your eyes and think of exactly that.”Stiles did as he was told. The show of submission has Peter’s fangs itching to drop.

Soon enough, the scent of ash and salt was washed away by the smell of ozone. Peter took in his fill. He can see the gathering storm clouds inside his mind’s eye and blinding lightning. He can almost hear the rolling thunder and the heavy rainfall. The destruction before the creation.

A second—or two, merely passed before he heard the voice of the only person that calls Stiles ‘Tommy’ coming from the bedroom of the cabin. It was too weak to be heard by Stiles’ ears. As much as Peter wants to keep the dear boy to himself, he has to let Stiles celebrate his success.

“Darling…” Stiles opened his eyes and Peter smiled at him. “Newt’s awake and calling for you.”

Stiles let out a startled gasp. He quickly got up to his feet and rushed to where Newt was. If Stiles weren’t so honest when he mentioned the wizard being his best friend, Peter would have been jealous. But as it stands—there’s no reason nor room for him to be.

Somehow—someway, Stiles became his. In no time, he will become Stiles’, he’s not even going to fight it. He knows it’s better to embrace it.

* * *

Stiles will never forget when Newt was at his most powerful. It is a memory that holds a special place in his heart and mind.

He remembers the government calling out to all magic users. A cry for help when they learned that they need magic to further the progress of finding the cure. Newt distrusted WCKED and he has every reason to.

After months of struggling in the scorch, they met a group of magic users that knew Newt. It was strange to watch Newt call someone by their last name, but it seemed that’s just how they have always been. Though, there was no joyous reunion nor emotional hugging. It seemed like the other group was just glad to see another magic user and not Newt himself.

They informed Newt that the government’s call wasn’t a trap and they are headed to the last city standing. Newt was almost vibrating in anger beside Stiles as the rest of the magic users try to reason with him. Newt being the reasonable guy that he is, listened to them, and saw that they had a point.

Though, Newt has one question—is the government going to give their wands back? Getting confirmation that; yes, the government will. It solidified their decision to help in finding the cure.

Inside the facility, more people greeted Newt—always by his last name and with an awed expression. (Stiles didn’t get it then, but he does now.) Newt paid them no mind and stuck with the Gladers instead.

Before they were permitted to join the research team for the cure, they were tested. They hated it—but not one of them hated it as much as Newt did. Newt demolished to testing rooms and too many to count testing equipment.

People talked about it and talked about how it should have been obvious even before that Newt is a strong wizard. Wizards talk about how his grandfather captured a Dark Lord—Stiles could only guess that a Dark Lord is equivalent to a Darth from the dark side of the force. They talk about how Newt’s mother was present during the Battle in Hogwarts and Newt surviving the fall of the Wizarding School.

Newt went on as if he can’t hear anything. They followed his lead on that one. They didn’t listen to what people say. If Newt wants them to know about his past, he will tell them. If not, they would respect Newt’s decision. Stiles doesn’t have anything to stand on in that front—he didn’t even give them his real name.

The demolition of the testing facility isn’t the memory that Stiles used, though. It was the memory of Newt protecting them from hoards and hoards of Grievers while they were on their way back from scavenging for the ingredients that are needed for formulating the cure. Newt told them to stand behind him as he pulls out his wand from his pocket and sent what first seemed to be a ball of fire in the Grievers’ way.

Soon, the fire took on another form of a raven. It swept through the Grievers before other animals were formed. A badger running through the Grievers and was joined by a lion with a snake—they burnt everything in sight while Newt stood steady. His hand holding the wand continuously spouting fire and though he was sweating, his strength wasn’t wavering. He only stopped the fire when the Grievers were nothing but ash.

Stiles thought of that—recalled that strength coming inside Newt in waves and Willed in to be placed inside the immobile body of his best friend. Inside him, there was electricity—slowly spreading throughout his system. It’s making his senses sharper. It makes him feel the radiating warmth coming from Peter seems like heat from a campfire. It makes his nose twitch with the scent of herbs, ink, and parchment Newt had set aside. It makes his taste the air between him and Peter and knows that its taste is addictive. And if he leans in closer, he’d be able to taste Peter himself.

Stiles wonders how does intelligence, manipulation, and pride taste. Will it be smooth on his lips and sweet on his tongue? Will it leave his lips bruised and make him thirsty from a savory taste? Will Peter taste like redemption or damnation?

He opened his eyes and rushed to Newt’s side the moment Peter told him Newt was awake. Though the pull he has for Peter is strong, he would always come to Newt’s aide. Their friendship is more important than what he is building with Peter. He wouldn’t leave Newt hanging, because Newt wouldn’t do that to him either.

“You bloody shank,” Newt said in place of a greeting. “You gave me my matured magic core.” There’s a coursing excitement from Newt that Stiles hasn’t felt in a long time.

“It wasn’t me.” He was quick to say. “It was Peter—he gave me this idea.” He babbled as he made his way to the bed and sat close to Newt. “I kept imagining giving you some kind of light from within me instead of thinking of a memory of when you were most powerful. I can’t imagine things and make it happen. I need to use what I have—in my memory and…and project that. It doesn’t make sense really but—“

“Tommy.” Newt stopped him. “It is easier to will the memory into life because you know it can be done—it was already done before, but imagination takes a lot more belief.”

“That…makes sense, I guess.” They sat there looking at each other. Soon enough, Stiles caught the same giddiness that Newt is feeling.

“Now, we have an idea how to work on your Spark and I have my arsenal full with a matured magical core,” Newt stated. “We’d be unstoppable now.”

“I do feel sorry to those who had and would cross you.” Peter came into view with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m glad you’re awake now, Newt.” There was fondness in Peter’s voice, Stiles had to think for a second if Newt and Peter had a growing friendship already that he wasn’t aware of.

“Yeah.” Newt’s smile was genuine as he looks at Peter. “Thank you for helping this shank figure klunk out. He would be lost without us, Peter.”

Stiles's protest fell on deaf ears.

“I’m sure between the two of us we’ll be able to keep him on track.”

Stiles just knows that there’s a silent conversation happening between the two. He’ll think about it later. For now, he’s just happy that Newt’s awake and better. Still, he’s more determined than before in figuring out how he could use his Spark.

* * *

Minho knows that he would need to start reading books on the supernatural sooner. To be an effective Left hand, he would need to know about every supernatural threat they might face in the future. Also, know how he can take what possible threat they’d face down.

He’s not as hard-working as Newt, no one is as hard-working as Newt. And, he’s a genius like Thomas—nor does he have the guts to force himself into focusing on things, the way the shank does. Though he does have his studying habit and he has an above-average intelligence compared to most. He likes to think that he would do fine.

For now, he’s got Gally teaching him all about guns. They might not have information about Victoria Argent, but their plan of making it look like another hunter killed her is a go. While he already knows how to fire a gun, he’s not as proficient at it as Gally. For their plan to work, he has to make it seem like it’s a professional who has fired the gun.

There’s a movement behind him that got him stiffening in his seat. Minho knows that it’s just Danny shifting in his seat and not a threat. But, the coming full moon is heightening his senses to a degree that he can say that it’s sensitive. A little movement gets him tensing up, the noise around him grates his ears, and…he doesn’t even want to talk about the smell.

Walking out of the classroom, he had to stop himself from snarling when a hand landed on his shoulder. He did jump, though, before turning. Danny was looking at him with a concerned look on his face. It makes Minho feel bad—Danny is such a nice guy.

“You okay?” Danny asked him—still no removing his hand from Minho’s shoulder. It makes Minho feel all wrong inside. No, that’s not it. His wolf doesn’t like being detained as much as he does, but his wolf doesn’t understand that being held back from walking isn’t the same as being locked in a cell and getting blood drawn out from his veins.

“Yeah—I think I have a headache coming on, but I’ll survive the day.” Minho smiled reassuringly at Danny. He held back a relieved sigh when Danny let go of him. He didn’t want to seem rude.

They went to their next class and separated to go to their cliques. He sat next to Newt and Allison, the two let him in on their conversation. Allison is informing them of the upcoming formal, and asking them if they’re going.

“Won’t you need dates for those kinds of things?” Newt asked. “Or, is that just something seen in the movies?”

Minho wouldn’t lie. He’s half nervous whenever Newt asks something about mundane things in front of other people. There could only be so much difference between European culture and American culture when it comes to the education system.

“Date is optional,” Allison told him. “Though, some might think that it’s a loser move if you go to the formal without one.” She voiced this one with an eye roll. “Maybe we could go as a group.”

“Or, maybe you could ask Fry to be your date.” Newt teased her with a knowing smile.

Allison blushed but she recovered quickly. “You don’t mention my crush on Frypan and I won’t mention your crush on my Dad.”

“Allison…” Newt hissed her named scandalously—face red and looking around as if making sure no one heard her. Allison looked smug.

He’s happy that Newt is back to his hundred percent. Minho noticed that there’s a slight change in Newt’s confidence when he got his mature magic core back. He guesses he’d feel more confident, too, once he gets a proper understanding of his wolf. Competency is something everyone in their group values.

Their class started and their conversation about dates and crushes was put on pause. He fought off his habit of chewing off the end of his pen because his new werewolf taste buds can taste the chemicals on the cap and it’s unpleasant. He focused on the formulas and questions presented instead of his overly heightened senses. He’s only half-successful because someone forgot to use deodorant and something rotten is coming from the window.

Lunchtime came and he half dreads walking in the cafeteria because of the onslaught of scents from emotional teenagers, but his other half is welcoming it because of Frypan’s lunch. He saw that Thomas is now joining them and his wolf purred happily inside of him. It never felt right for Thomas to sit with someone else during lunch.

He unashamedly sat next to Thomas and close to him. The familiar presence of the pack made him relax for a fraction. Thomas greeted him with a smile, leaning close to him—knowing that touch helps. “You’ll be joining us from now on?” He asked.

“Might be the start,” Thomas said as Frypan handed everyone’s meal. Minho still doesn’t get how Fry gets everything ready before they head to school. “Scott’s on the campaign for popularity.”

That got Gally scoffing. None of them liked the fact that it seemed so easy for McCall to disregard Thomas. But, Minho’s thankful for it. It means that they’d be able to spend more time with Thomas now.

“If anybody asks,” Thomas continued. “Tell them we’re forming a band.”

“Was that the reason you gave McCall?” Newt asked—amusement coloring his tone.

“Yep.” Thomas popped the ‘p’ before they move on to another topic. They stayed away from anything related to the supernatural with Allison with them. It wasn’t hard since Thomas rambled for most of the time.

School’s out and Minho felt like he can breathe easier, but at the same time, his skin feels tight. As the night draws closer, the closer is his wolf from manifesting itself. It wants Minho to shed his clothes and run for hours. He reminded his wolf to be patient, Newt had finished the warding just on time and they’d be able to roam in the preserve for the first time. The thought alone makes his wolf vibrate under his skin.

They headed home for the time being—taking Thomas with them, to wait for the right moment to bust Peter out of the hospital. Every werewolf in the house was agitated, though they’re not snarling at each other’s throat. They did hover over the two magic users of their pack as they prepare for the night. Thomas was more understanding than Newt, the latter can be seen taking calming breathes –trying to be patient as they pack additional clothes for Peter.

Darkness has taken over the sky and the moon’s presence is prominent, they deem it time to move. Fry and Newt got into Gally’s car while Minho decided that he wants to ride with Thomas. It was Newt who got out of the car to fetch their Alpha. Seeing Peter walk next to Newt with people not even glancing at them, it was obvious that Newt did some magic. The two got into Gally’s car and Thomas followed after the pick-up truck.

Peter showed them a spot wherein they could park their cars unseen. Their Alpha led them inside the preserve and the smell of fresh trees, rich soil, and dried leaves filled Minho’s senses. He could only take it all in with a deep breath.

The moon illuminated the forest—high in the sky and calling out to them like a seductress. It’s taking all of Minho’s control to walk at a steady pace and not run off like a headless chicken. Looking at Peter, he can see that there’s also a level of tenseness around his shoulders. Minho could only wonder what it’s like for the older werewolf. It has been years since he was free to run during the full moon.

“To the human eye, the full moon lasts for three days.” Peter started, looking up at the silver orb in the night sky. “But, the truth is…the full moon lasts only in an instant. The pull we feel now is nothing compared to that moment. Brace yourselves.” There was a wicked smile on Peter’s face—a feral sort of glee that makes Minho want to run away, but the wolf in him celebrates the fact that their Alpha is dangerous.

As if on cue, Minho felt a pull that can’t be denied. It’s not a soft come hither. It’s yanking at chains and rallying against oppression. A surge of power from inside that wants to be set free. Minho knows the need to be free.

A growl was ripped from his throat and he can hear that he is not the only one. Heat coursed through his body, he felt his skin shift and his clothes are torn. Their Alpha’s howl caught their attention and Minho was again present. He is once again in control.

Turning to their Alpha, he saw Peter’s massive form. Peter loomed over them and a snarled bark—a command for them to enjoy the moon while it lasts, got them shooting off in a run. Minho was leading the run, Gally, and Frypan not far from him while Peter covers their backs.

Before they could even go too far, Minho turned back—back to their magic users. He runs circles around them and Thomas’ laugh sent delight down his wolf’s spine. He nuzzled at Newt and soon Frypan and Gally were following his lead. Newt’s complaints fell on deaf ears because they can smell how happy he is.

Peter approached the magic users. He scented Newt by running his nose at the side of the wizard’s face and ruffling his already messy hair. Newt scented their Alpha back with the help of Thomas’ instruction. As Peter walked closer to Thomas, Fry and Gally moved backward—listening to their instinct of letting their Alpha have Thomas’ sole attention.

Peter lowered himself to be at Thomas’ level. He nosed at Thomas’ cheek and neck—holding Thomas closer than he did with Newt. Giant clawed hands took hold of Thomas’ forearm and licked at Thomas’ wrist. Thomas’ other hand landed on top of Peter’s head as he scented the Alpha, too.

The three Betas raised their voice to the moon with a howl—a claim for courtship has been made, Minho’s wolf is just as excited as he is.

* * *

Gally thought that he would have a rough day after the full moon. He expected some sort of pain from his wolf being pulled from him. Instead, he got the best sleep he ever has since returning to the past. He found it strange but he’s not one to kick a horse in the mouth.

Having breakfast with the others, it seems like he isn’t the only one who was reinvigorated by the full moon. Fry was basically dancing inside the kitchen while Minho sings a Katy Perry song. Newt was looking at them questionably—probably comparing them to the type of werewolf the magical community has from the way he was jotting down notes.

School is tolerable with the thought of they’d get to run around the preserve again tonight. Though there were two instances wherein he had to stop himself from snarling at the guy who was talking about Minho’s ass too liberally. He did found Allison’s fluttering heart cute whenever she’s around Frypan—which he would never admit aloud. He also took a moment to have a private chat with the Greenie and know that even if Peter’s his Alpha, he wouldn’t hesitate to deck the older werewolf if Greenie is hurt.

As far as Gally is concerned, Beacon High is the same as every high school there is. There’s the popular group, there are the nerds, there are the jocks, there are the theater kids, there’s the student council, there are the ones that fly under the radar, and there’s the bullies and the bullied. It’s all part of the elaborate teenage social hierarchy that has been displayed in ‘Mean Girls’—don’t ask him how he knows the movie. Just…don't.

Back then, he was one of those that merely fly under the radar. He’s nothing special. He’s not sporty, he’s not smart, and his guitar playing is just for his pleasure. Being part of a group that has been dub as the new kids, didn’t really change much for him. Truth be told, he doesn’t give a klunk about the high school drama then much more now.

Even with his protective instincts dialed up to ten, he still didn’t feel any particular need to protect the weak. Well, there was that one instance during the first day of school. He didn’t know what took over him to save Curly Boy from being beaten up in between classes.

It was the scent, his wolf whispered to him.

The slighted hint of blood under the skin was not enough to cover up the scent of freshwater surrounded by pine trees and wet moss. It reminded Gally of his home town. He was half mindless in his search and found it in the boy covering himself from the assault coming his way.

Gally would be the first to admit that he is no hero. Still, he walked up to the bullies and stopped the first hit from landing. He can tell that it was the first hit from these bullies and sure that Curly Boy got the bruise he is hiding somewhere under his clothes from someone else. His wolf didn’t like the thought. Home shouldn’t be painted in blood red, and Gally agrees.

He made the bullies walk away—he’s taller than them and he can say that he has mastered the tactic of intimidation. He has the eyebrows for it. The bullies warned him in a shaky tone and he just rolled his eyes at them before faking a punch that got them scattering away.

Turning back to Curly Boy, blue eyes were staring up at him. The wolf in him purred at the sight, finding it appealing—Gally stopped the purr before it even left his chest. He wanted to ask his wolf what it is getting at, but he knows that he wouldn’t find a verbal answer.

To cut through the awkwardness, Gally faked being lost. He held out his schedule sheet and asked where he can find his next class. Curly Boy answered by telling him that he has the same class. Unexpected, but not unwelcomed. They walked together to the classroom where Frypan had been waiting for him and shooting him inquiring looks. He ignored it—along with the questions from the rest of their friends and teasing.

He didn’t expect that he’d have more classes with Curly Boy. It had him sitting a few seats away from Curly Boy to just get a hint of that freshwater, pine trees, and wet moss scent. Though, it worries him that now and then there would be a scent of a bruise and bitterness around Curly Boy.

He tried to be content with the hints of the scent of home and not worry about Curly Boy. Gally doesn’t know him and he doesn’t know Gally. It would be weird if Gally just starts asking questions about the bruises that Curly Boy hides so well. So, he went to his classes, stayed out of the drama, and was ready to just fly under the radar.

But, it seems like circumstances have another think in mind.

Gally let Frypan go-ahead to the cafeteria while he detours to the bathroom. He was done with his business and was about the meet with the other when he heard a body being shoved on a metal. He’s guessing that they’re going to shove someone inside the locker. Gally walked by—not really thinking of getting involved, but then the smell of home got him pausing. He cursed between his teeth as he took a sharp turn.

“Hey!” He called out to the bullies and Curly Boy’s eyes widen at his appearance. He didn’t hesitate in walking up to them and forcing them to let go of Curly Boy. They tried to shake him off but he has more strength than the three of them combined.

“Is he your boyfriend?” One of them tried to taunt.

He gave his taunt. “If anyone should question their sexuality, it should be you—from the way you’ve been targeting someone with a pretty face, it’s a bit telling.”

“Fuck you!” Gally’s guessing that one’s the leader.

“I’m going to have to turn down the offer.” That got the guy sputtering. “Go, before I decide to break your noses.” He glared at them this time and he saw the moment fear got the best of them. He didn’t turn his back from them until the bullies were gone from his sight.

Gally turned to Curly Boy and saw him trying to fix his ruffled appearance. The bitterness coming off in waves from Curly boy was enough to drown out the smell of freshwater. The pines trees and wet moss were still there but it was faint under the bruising scent.

“Are you going to ask where the cafeteria next?” Curly Boy has some cheek, who would have known?

“Sure.” He answered easily. “My friends are waiting for me and I don’t know which way to go.”

“I saw you eat lunch with your friends the other day.” That’s an interesting tidbit, Gally filed that away. “You know where the cafeteria is.”

“Frypan leads me to the cafeteria. I’ll get lost on my own.” Gally knows Curly Boy can tell he is lying, but he is not going to let Curly Boy out of his sight for the time being. He grabbed the other’s wrist and started walking towards the cafeteria. “Tell me if I’m going in the wrong direction.”

Gally didn’t bother faking a wrong turn, deception is Newt and Greenie’s thing—not his.

They reach the cafeteria and his pack’s table. Allison has an excited smile on her face, Frypan’s a touch confused, Minho’s a second away from teasing him, Newt has an eyebrow raised in his direction and Greenie’s drink sprayed to the side. “He’s eating with us.” He announced as he pushed Curly Boy to sit and he sat next to him—not noticing the distance between them or the lack of it.

“Okay,” Newt answered simply. “I’m Newt.” He pointed at Fry. “That’s Frypan. At my side is Allison, next to her is Minho. In front of me is Stiles.”

“And, the one that kidnapped me?” Curly Boy asked.

“Uh…Gally,” Frypan answered then stared pointedly at him.

Gally merely shrugged, unrepentant and unbothered.

“What’s your name?” Minho asked with a smile plastered on his face.

“Isaac.” Curly Boy now has a name in Gally’s mind.

“So, Isaac...” Fry started as he pushed a container of food towards Isaac’s direction. “What’s your favorite food?”

* * *

Now that Scott is setting Stiles aside to make way for his popularity, Stiles feels relieved. He knows how that sounds. At the moment, he can’t find the guilt to smother himself with. It’s something that is needed to be done—along with not involving the rest of what made up the McCall pack. He made his peace with that.

He knows that he won’t be able to keep it from everyone that knew from the before. It’s just impossible. Allison will know for simply having the blood of Argents will know. His father will, too, because of his position. But, he never thought that any former pack member of McCall would be involved in the supernatural despite the lack of threat that made them take notice of it. Maybe it’s simply fated being at work.

Isaac now joins them during lunch. He isn’t as sarcastic as when Stiles first met him. Stiles thinks that the lack of lycanthropy might have played a role in Isaac’s different attitude. Isaac is quieter but Stiles can see that there’s a quip just about to be let loose from the way that he stares at the rest of the pack. Isaac is also constantly gauging Gally’s actions, trying to find the meaning of Gally’s protectiveness and inclusion of him.

A quick exchange of nods from the Gladers they already know why. Stiles is glad that there’s an opportunity of happiness for Gally in store. He’s wishing that it would be the same for the rest of the Betas. Though, Frypan would have a trickier situation if he’s going for Allison.

Once they got home, Gally didn’t hesitate on speaking out. Isaac’s scent reminds him of his hometown. From Frypan’s sad look and Minho’s retreating gaze, he and Newt can tell they long for familiarity. Here, Stiles found the guilt that wrapped itself around him worse than a boa constrictor.

Gally also decided to impart additional information about Isaac’s smell. The blond teen smells of bruises. Stiles told Gally what Isaac’s home life is like and he was amazed that Gally only flashed his eyes. That was enough for Stiles to know that he has to take action. He said so, he will start compiling evidence against the father. He also advised the rest to make Isaac trust them better—enough that they can lure the other teen to live with them. They would also need to ask for Peter’s consent to let Isaac know of the pack.

He and Newt aren’t the ones who usually teach the rest of the group how to manipulate other people, but in this, Gally has to know. Stiles stared at Gally’s eyes and told him how he can take advantage of Isaac’s insecurities. It’s painful how they needed to use Isaac’s weakness to assure them of his loyalty.

Gally looked torn but there was a light of determination in his eyes. Newt spoke up and told him that; yes, they’d be doing a bad thing but he should remember that it’s to separate a child from his abusive father. Newt said that Gally should think of how much better it would be for Isaac to live with them and have Peter as an Alpha. It was what cemented Gally’s resolve.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, now Stiles understands the saying.

On the second night of the full moon, Peter showed the Betas the whole parameter of the preserve. Stiles and Newt didn’t join them because they looked for the Nemeton. When Frypan and Gally searched for it while still unbitten, they didn’t found it. They weren’t expecting that the two would, but Stiles wanted to test a theory.

Two normal teens didn’t found it, but two beings with magic did. The theory inside his mind is starting to form but he has to push it aside as he and Newt start to dig for the jar. They were covered in dirt before the night was up and Newt was telling him how eerie it was to touch the jar. The same can be said about the stump. It was a no brainer that they would need to cleanse it so a tree may hopefully grow again. They quickly covered the hole and Newt kept the jar inside a well-protected box and placed it inside his extendable pocket.

They would let the Ministry of Magic have the Nogitsune along with every piece of information that they found about it. Newt would also include inside the letter that he would write the need to get in touch with the Japanese magical community because it seems like they are more knowledgeable about the Nogitsune. Stiles thought that it would a good idea as they head back to where the rest of the pack is.

They saw the Betas being taught how to fight—and fight effectively as Peter watch over them or correct their form and movement. The Betas would use their advantages against each other and it’s no wonder that Minho would often come out on top. Stiles can see how Peter motivates the three differently to get the outcome that he wants.

He went home early than the rest of them. He was scented thoroughly before he was permitted to leave. When they met at school, the three didn’t look worn out. He would even go as far as saying that they look refreshed.

By the third night of the full moon, they have settled in somewhat a routine. After school, they would go home and wait for the moon to take its place up in the night sky, pick up Peter and head to the preserve as discreetly as possible, and wait for the moon’s peak to change into a werewolf before running around and learning fighting lessons from Peter. While the humans of the pack sit aside, free to join them or work on their magic.

Stiles remembers seeing Peter’s hulking form for the first time and feeling dread rolling around his stomach. It is the last night of the full moon, he’s still caught in awe how different Peter’s form was when he wasn’t sane. It’s still massive—incredibly so, but the burnt patches are now gone. It’s all silky black fur. The gauntness before will never be. Well-developed muscles with an underlying strength that is otherworldly will always be from now on. It might also be Stiles’ imagination—but Peter’s Alpha red eyes seem to shine brighter.

Unconsciously, he wrapped a hand around the wrist that Peter had licked. Minho’s been teasing him during the day, Frypan’s been saying that he is happy for Stiles, while Gally and Newt had a more subdued reaction to the claim. Gally cornered him and told him that if Peter would ever hurt him, all he has to do is say so. Newt on the other hand told him that he should be smart about it—Stiles could only give Newt a grave nod in turn.

If Stiles were, to be honest, he is not sure what made Peter claim a courtship. He hasn’t done anything. Well, he hasn’t done anything yet. He hasn’t even formulated a plan on how to lure the older man into liking him. He was planning to, he’s just at a loss on how to start. Peter is an experienced man and he didn’t have the mind-reading advantage that Newt has.

Checking the time using his phone, there is still a few hours before the sunrise. He has to be home before his Dad’s shift is over. Stiles stared at the werewolves roughing each other up and Peter watching over them. He doesn’t want to go home yet.

As if sensing his hesitance, Peter approached him—head gesturing to the side, a silent command to follow him. Stiles did as he was told. It’s easy when it’s Peter. They walked far enough from the rest of the pack not to be able to listen in on them, but close enough that if one of the Betas howl Peter would be able to rush by their side.

Stiles had to fight down a blush as Peter shift back to his human form. From the smirk that the older man is wearing, it seems that he failed in that. Unashamed, because Peter had no reason to be, the Alpha walked up behind him and loosely wrapped his arms around Stiles—nosing the patch of skin behind his ears. It sent electricity up and down his spine enough to make his shiver.

“Must you head home, darling?” Peter asked softly.

“I have to.” He answered in an equally soft voice. “My Dad’s shift would be over in a few hours.”

“I’ll have to let you go, for now, I suppose.” Even as Peter utter the words, he didn’t release Stiles. “I’ll see you tonight. We have a lot to discuss, the pack’s future and ours.”

“So much to plan for.”

There’s a rumbling echoing from Peter’s chest that Stiles can tell is a sound of approval.“We’ll go down in history, darling. Whatever you fear would never come to pass.” He placed a kiss on Stiles’ nape. “I’ll forge alliances for you and lay the world at your feet.”

Stiles gasped at Peter’s declaration. Could it really be this easy? He is having a hard time believing it. “That is quite a promise to make.”

“I don’t think anything less would satisfy you.” Stiles’ heart is jack-rabbiting inside his ribcage. “The way you and Newt scheme is telling.” Peter’s hold on him tightened. “You tell no lie, but keep your secrets. I know it has something to do with what the pups have gone through. Perhaps, relating to your Spark, too.”

Stiles covered Peter’s hand with his. The Alpha thinks he finally has a clear view of Stiles’ psyche and schemes. In some way, Peter isn’t wrong—but he isn’t completely right either. To him, the claim still doesn’t make sense.

A clawed finger runs a trail on Stiles’ neck. “Tell me, am I wrong?”

“You’re not.” Again, not a lie—but not the truth either. “It’s just…packs are being hunted for illogical reasons. It’s nice that we can protect ours, but wouldn’t it be great if no other pack would suffer needlessly?”

“And, so the world would dance to your tune.” Peter turned him so they are standing face to face.

“It would be our tune.” The moment Peter’s eyes flash red, Stiles knew he said the right thing. Ah, they’re playing a game. Testing each other’s devotion to the other. He can get behind that. Peter will soon prostrate himself to Stiles—creeper wolf just doesn’t know it yet, and Stiles wouldn’t have it any other way. Peter is dangerous he has to make sure he has the entirety of the Alpha werewolf, because if not he might as well serve his head on a silver platter.

The Alpha is looking at him with fond eyes, almost the same as when they were scrambling to free their selves from the train. Stiles aches—he’d keep this forever, it doesn’t matter if a throne would be dedicated to him in hell. He will just help Newt have this too with Chris. They managed time travel, surely they’d be able to make one man fall in love with Newt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Gally and Isaac...


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the chance to read this story. It means a lot to me. Thank you for the kudos, comments and bookmarks. I'm trying to get the story going as fast as possible because this is just going to be massive. I know from the start it would be, but I didn't think it would be this big. We're not even half-way. My, God, what have I done? This is my first Time Travel fic and I didn't know that fics like these are just MASSIVE. Still, no regrets. Let's just have fun!
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, though I do proofread. Please, excuse the mistakes that get pass me. On to the story...

Peter arranged his documents accordingly to get himself discharged from the hospital. He had Newt’s help it making it seem like he’s going to a specialized hospital in a different country. It made the doctors in Beacon Hills not question his actions. His farewell was received positively, with both the doctor and nursing staff wishing him luck.

He is certain that once he gets back from his trip, he will have a better reputation than before. He can’t say that it’s a bad thing—it’s rather the complete opposite. It will certainly help him in handling the Hunters. They wouldn’t be able to make him disappear easily if he’s in touch with the community. It would certainly reinforce the idea that they aren’t mindless creatures in the long run.

When asked, Peter answered that he would be going straight to the airport to catch his plane to another country—that’s what people know. The truth is, he would be heading to his pack’s place. He would spend a night there so that they can set their ducks in a row for the upcoming months. He knows he is in for a night full of discussions. Peter doesn’t mind –not one bit. This would let him have a more in-depth perception of Stiles’ thinking. He can say he’s excited about that.

Getting out of the cab, he paid the driver more than enough money to keep quiet. He stared at the house before him. It’s big—far from most houses around the area but still looks suburban with its picket fence, mowed lawn, and pasty yellow exterior. It would be hard to tell that there are three teenage werewolves inside and a talented wizard with a potion lab in the basement. He almost scoffed at the thought.

He walked up the porch and buzz the doorbell just by the frame of the door. Stiles was the one that greeted him and Peter unabashedly scented the boy. Stiles accepted it without fight or hesitancy. Peter purred along with his wolf due to satisfaction.

“Just in time. They’re setting up the table.” Stiles informed him as he was pulled inside the house.

Peter let his gaze wander around the entryway, taking notice of how the teenagers arrange the items by the doorway closet as Stiles opened it up and hang his coat for him. His eyes landed on the painting on the wall where usually a family picture can be seen. He took in a deep breath, trying to get a sense of just how clean the house is, prepared for an onslaught of scents only to be hit by a smell of cleaning products. There’s no unpleasant scent in the air, only the aroma of food coming from the kitchen. It seems that his Betas know how to keep a household. He approves of that.

Walking further inside, the living room has matching furniture—though they did look painfully dull. But, the room is still clean with few items scattered around, signs that the place is lived in. He stared at the TV that was left turned on a channel that plays music. Somewhere in the kitchen, he can hear a tapping of hands against the counter and Minho singing off-tune along to the pop music.

“It was a revelation when we found out that Minho’s a fan of Katy Perry.” Stiles’ lips quirked on the side.

“There’s nothing wrong with Katy Perry.” Minho loudly proclaimed so that Stiles’ human ears would pick it up.

Stiles leads him to the kitchen where all of his pack has gathered. Minho and Gally move in synchronicity that tells Peter they are the ones that often set the table. Newt follows Frypan’s orders as he lifts the pan off the counter and onto the table. Frypan follows along with the vegetables in hands. And, Stiles joined the fray by filling up the glasses with water.

He found it delightfully odd how the teens seem to play with each other’s dynamics. When it comes to crazy ideas, they follow Stiles’ lead. In magic, they follow Newt. In the kitchen, they follow Frypan’s. He can already see them following Gally’s lead in a fight, and Minho’s in a search.

Now, Peter has to lead these teens in creating a world wherein the supernatural is established and supported by the magical community. He’s going to lead them into a new era. That’s why they chose him.

They know their place in the pack and are secured of it. It lets them rely on each other for guidance and support. It makes them an efficient pack.

He let the teens take their seat before joining them, wanting to see how they would arrange themselves. Gally at the other end of the table, Minho on his left and Frypan on his right. Peter sat at the other end which the teens left open for him with Newt in his left and Stiles on his right. It’s curious really.

Looking at the dishes on the table, Peter commented. “Everything here looks lovely.” Frypan smiled at him, glowing with pride.

“Let’s all dig in first before we get straight to planning.” Stiles exaggeratedly rubbed his palms together before reaching for the closest dish and filling his plate.

Peter took a bit of everything and he is starting to understand the nickname. He listened as Minho told Newt that he’d take care of their assignment and watched as the wizard frowned at the offer but didn’t decline it. Stiles offered up to help Gally on his economics subject which made his Right Hand sigh.

“Is anyone failing their class?” He couldn’t help but ask. He’s aware that academic intelligence isn’t all that, but it would help the teens if they would want to get into a good university. He’s got enough money to hire tutors for them.

“Not really,” Stiles answered. “Gally’s getting C’s on his econ, so is Newt in his calc. We’re not overly worried about it, but they do have to keep up the façade of being sons of ambassadors and with that comes certain societal expectations.”

“I should have thought of something else for a cover.” Gally frowned at his plate.

“It would be useful for when you go to university,” Peter told them.

“I’m already done with my formal schooling. I don’t have any use for whatever it is taught there.” Newt informed him which got him raising an eyebrow because while he knew that the wizard got formal schooling in wizardry, he didn’t know that he’s already a graduate. “I already have done my NEWTs, and yes, the joke has been done a million times.”

“I’m guessing it means something.” Peter’s fighting back a smile that Stiles is unashamedly wearing on his face.

“It’s the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test.” Newt started. “It’s a subject-specific exam that most witches or wizards take if they have a specific career in mind. After passing that, we’d be able to find an apprenticeship in the field that we want or perhaps train as an Auror.”

“Fascinating.” Peter murmured. “And when you took the exam, did you have a career in mind?”

“I would be a magizoologist like the rest of my family,” Newt answered with an amused huff. “I think, I’m leaning more on what my brothers do which is creature protection right with what I’m doing now. Still, I think once that we reintroduce your type of lycanthropy in the magical community, I’d also be tasked to study you—or perhaps someone from my family.”

“It would be cool to meet your parents,” Frypan said with a smile. “Your cousin was entertaining, I’m wondering if it would be the same with the rest of your family.”

“When you say ‘study’, what does that include?” Minho asked carefully after a few moments of contemplation.

“No force physical experimentations.” Newt was quick to answer. “My family doesn’t do that—it’s against what we believe in. They might ask for your blood, but it would be just a drop. They might ask you invasive questions, but you don’t have to answer. They might ask you to shift back and forth, but they wouldn’t force a shift on you. If ever someone besides my family does study you, I’d make sure no one gets hurt.”

Peter can hear the promise in Newt’s tone. From the way Minho nodded, it’s clear that he trusts Newt to protect them even against his kind. He shared a look with Stiles and let himself know that the same promise was instilled in him. Newt and Stiles wouldn’t let the same torture happen to Minho twice.

“No one is going to force anyone to do anything they don’t want.” Peter seconded and Minho’s head turned to him. “We can draw up a contract if they would want to study us that would bind any magic user’s abilities if they step a toe out of line—for extra precaution.”

“We could definitely do that.” Newt agreed easily enough. “Though, America is quite embracing of their creatures—Britain was playing catch-up by the early two-thousands.”

“That’s good to know.” Peter knows what other creatures are there in the magical community, though he knows that a topic best left for another time.

After their meal, they all retire to the living room. Each teen taking their seats with Peter commandeering the armchair by the fireplace. Newt disappeared for a moment only to come back with a box in hand. The teen rummaged through it and held out a pendant for Peter to inspect.

It’s a crescent shape pendant with ends touching—making it seem like there’s an eclipse. Holding it, Peter can feel a thrum of energy coming from it, conforming to his initial suspicion that it’s not a mere necklace. He turned it over and saw no rune etched in the back. He looked back at Newt with a silent inquiry lighting his eyes.

“It’s a fixed point-free point Portkey.” Newt started and Peter nodded—aware of what a Portkey is. “It has a fixed point here, which is this house—but a free point at the other end. It means that wherever you are around any American continent, you’ll be able to back here and back to where you left off.”

“From your previous explanation of a Portkey, I’m certain that this was no easy feat to create.” Peter nodded towards the direction of the teen. “Thank you.”

“Usually this works simply by touch, but I changed it up by putting a password just to be on the safe side. The password to get back here is ‘Luna’, the password to get back to wherever you left off is ‘Solis’.”

“Moon and Sun in Latin.”

“Yes,” Newt confirmed. “Stiles thought that you should be able to spend the full moons with the pack. The rest of us happens to agree. I don’t think one full moon spent together would be enough for newly turned werewolves.”

“It also doubles as a tracker.” Stiles piped up. “It would let Newt know where you are whenever and Apparate to you if needed.”

Peter narrowed his eyes playfully at the teens. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are trying to keep a close eye on me.”

“We are.” Stiles’ tone was firm. “You’ll be traveling alone in pack territories that could have hunters without treaties with them. Anything can happen on the road. This way, we’d know if you’re in danger and drop off anything here to be your backup.”

“Darling, I’ll be careful.” Peter’s tone and eyes softened at Stiles—he didn’t notice the looks exchanged between the rests of his pack.

“Newt is going to charm it to you. So even if you lose it, it would magically appear around your neck again.”

Peter knows that Stiles's fear wouldn’t be simply put to rest by reassuring words. “If that is your wish.”

Stiles let out a heavy breath. “Thank you.”

“Moving the discussion forward.” Newt clasped his hands together. “Let’s talk deadlines.” The wizard laid down a map of America that’s been marked with white, blue, and green. “The green ones are those you already have an alliance with. The blue ones are those that were interested in having an alliance before the fire. The white ones are those that are fairly neutral—mostly because they are small packs. Now, all this information are from the books and laptop that you have given me. I’m certain that there would have been changes over the years.”

“We start with the green ones.” Peter voiced out the obvious. “They respected the alliance, coming to them first would make it seem that we value their action—or lack of it.”

“We do value it,” Stiles told him meaningfully and Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, we do. I would also state that the alliance with them would continue if they wish so now that I’m the Alpha and give them a little insight on unifying with the rest of the packs inside the US.”

“Tell them about the magical community,” Newt added. “Tell them that you want the packs to be unified to enter a governing body that would hold Hunters responsible for their actions against were-creatures.”

“That would sound both terrifying and enticing,” Peter commented but conceded. “If they ask for proof?”

“Text me,” Stiles told him. “Or call me. We can Apparate to where you are—me and Newt, the rest if needed.”

“I’ll add another layer of password just in case Peter’s out of range to any cellular device.” Newt addressed Stiles. “You have two months to cover all the green ones,” Newt told Peter. Looking at the map, Peter thinks it is feasible enough. “With the blue ones, tell them the same thing—but no proof unless they’ve already signed a contract of an alliance. Warn them that the new contract is magically binding. They wouldn’t be able to tell anybody outside of their pack about witches and wizards of my kind.”

“Acceptable. I’m guessing this has a longer time frame.” Looking at the map, there are more blues than greens—though not significantly so. He let his eyes wander at the white ones. There are few of them but he doubts that one month would be enough to meet with all of them.

As if sensing his thoughts, Stiles spoke up. “We can push your reveal for another month. The hunters handling your former nurse hasn’t grown suspicious yet.”

“Two weeks would be enough.” Peter simply answered.

“Now that’s out of the way.” Stiles let Newt roll the map away. “We’re planning to stage Victoria’s murder to be under the hands of her fellow hunter.”

“Smart. It would cause distrust among their community making it easy for us to influence the rest of the Argents.”

“I know Victoria’s schedule through Allison. I’m mentally preparing myself for facing her. Our deadline for eliminating her is two months.” Newt informed everyone and Minho nodded at the side. This would be their task.

“I’d suggest we do it after the formal.” Stiles’ suggestion was taken more like a command. “We tell Allison about the supernatural on the night of the formal. We make it seem like a grand gesture of our friendship with her.”

“And Isaac?” Frypan asked.

Peter inclined his head to the side. He stared at Stiles, waiting for the Spark to inform him who this Isaac person is. From his peripheral, he saw Gally shift his weight from one foot to the other. He then turned to face his Right Hand.

“Isaac is a civilian,” Gally answered dutifully. “He doesn’t have any weight in…all of this. He’s just a teen that gets bullied at school and abused at home.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at Gally. “Somehow, I don’t think he’s just a teen to you.”

“He needs protection.” Gally insisted instead of just asking.

“Are you going to protect every bullied teen in Beacon High?” Peter mocked.

Gally opens his mouth to snap at him only to remember himself and his place. “No.” His tone was terse. “I want Isaac to be part of our pack. He wouldn’t be able to bring you anything but he brings me the scent of my hometown.”

Peter took a second to admire his and Gally’s progress. “Then, he shall be part of our pack. You would be responsible for making sure he’d be able to protect himself if he doesn’t want the bite.”

“Thank you.” Peter couldn’t judge Gally’s relieved expression. Sharing a look with Stiles, he knows he would try his best to keep the scent of home.

“So, it’s a go on telling them the night of the formal.” Stiles summarized.

“Fast forward to six months and three weeks…” Newt directed the turn of the conversation again. “Once you’re back, we’ll present Chris Argent a treaty and reveal to the Sheriff the supernatural to gather evidence on Kate’s crimes—but we wouldn’t be informing Chris about the investigation until we’re done with it.”

“Letting the Sheriff know would also reveal Stiles’ nature to him.” Peter felt the need to point out.

“My Dad will know about the supernatural one way or another,” Stiles said. “It’s better that he find out about it through us.”

“Reasonable,” Peter uttered.

“While we’re gathering evidence on Kate, we’ll be reintroducing you to the magical community.” Newt kept them on track. “We’ll start with MACUSA but we’ll have the backing of Lord Potter with this one because he is personally invested in the study of lycanthropy.” He pulled out a letter from the rest of the things that he brought with him. “It’s not a secret in our community that his godson is a werewolf. Lord Potter wants his godson to stay with us in hope that we might help Teddy in his transformation. I’ll give you books and articles about the type of werewolf we have in the magical community. You should study it while you’re on your trip.”

“Of course.” Peter took the letter from Newt’s hand and read it quickly.

The letter was penned carefully. The man—Lord Potter wasn’t demanding anything, he was kindly asking for help not desperately so but his care for his godsons bleeds in the letter. This is a man that would do his best for his loved ones not to suffer. Peter respects that.

“I wouldn’t mind another werewolf among us.”

“Good.” Newt nodded as Peter gives back the letter. “Because if there is some way we could help Teddy I’m sure other werewolves would make their way here.”

“That reminds me,” Peter added. “While I’m away, I’d have contractors building a pack-house for us. I’ll see what they can do about additional rooms in the design they sent me, but be ready to move once I return.”

Newt’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“We’re a pack. We’re supposed to live under the same roof—that way we can protect each other.” Peter’s starting to wonder just how magical werewolves are to the supernatural ones.

“That makes sense.” Newt closed up his box. “Going back. After reintroducing the supernatural to the magical, we’ll ask for their help in settling Kate’s case. This will be the symbol of the supernatural’s trust in the magical. It would urge them to take the supernatural seriously, but I bet my wand that the moment they learn of Kate’s crimes—they’d be wanting to be in touch with the Hunter community.”

“That’s where our treaty with the Argents would come to play.” Stiles’ smile was a touch predatory. Peter can honestly say that it looks good on Stiles.

“We would go to the magical community for aide—seeming to be hapless, only to come out useful due to our connection.” Peter’s answering smirk was one of approval. Devious—his pack is devious.

“The Hunters would be pulled into the magical community, too,” Newt added. “It would force them to be more careful and play nice until we get Allison the position of Matriarch.”

“Then, it would be a whole new world.” Peter ended dramatically. The Hale name would go down in history as the one that heralds change and unification. It would be his pack with him as the Alpha. The thought alone excites him.

* * *

Stiles’ Dad was supportive of him about his failed lacrosse tryout. It has been years since he felt his Dad pat him on his back. He almost cried. Stiles merely let out an exaggerated sigh and told his Dad that he was only interested in lacrosse because of Scott.

He made noise about wanting to dig out his drum set from the garage now that he has more time in his hand. His Dad smiled at him and told him that Stiles should do what he wants to do and that if he’s going to dig out his old drum set—he should also clean the garage. He made token protests but ultimately gave in to his Dad’s request.

He spent the morning cleaning out the garage. Whilst doing so, he found knick-knacks that he thought he had lost forever. There were some items from his Mom which he hid carefully because, at this time, his Dad isn’t ready for any reminders of his Mom. He found the drum set—still in pristine condition, and loaded it in his jeep.

Stiles asked for his Dad’s permission to sleepover at the Glader’s place for the night. He let out an energetic whoop when his Dad let him with the promise that he’d be back by morning and he’d text to keep the older man updated. Around five in the afternoon, the two of them locked the house, got in their separate cars while yelling reminders at each other, and went their separate ways.

He got to the Glader’s place an hour before their set meeting time. Newt raised an eyebrow at the drum set he started setting up in their garage. Stiles shrugged and muttered something about having an alibi. Soon, the rest of the pack set up their instruments in the garage, too.

Peter arrived exactly on time and was keen to know how his pack has been living from the way he scanned the house. Stiles would see him nod now and then. It clued him in that Peter approves the way the pack has been living. He almost wanted to laugh. The Gladers needed a steady stream of activities or else they’ll lose their minds. Stiles knows he does. It’s so strange to go from constantly working and moving to not doing much at all. He can say that his Dad’s house is just as clean as the Gladers.

They got through their meeting with no friction amongst them—except the one wherein Gally had to be coaxed into being vocal about what he wants. God, Stiles know they didn’t escape without any trauma, but it’s painful to see how Peter curbs the werewolves’ habits. Or, in some cases, use it for their improvement.

The hour is getting late, Frypan showed where Peter would be sleeping for the night while the rest of them deal with the dishes. Between the four of them, the kitchen cleanup duty was done quickly. They were soon retreating to their rooms for their nightly routine. Well, except Stiles—he volunteered to share his room with Peter.

He took his time throwing the garbage out. Stiles took in a lungful of the cold night air to steel himself. From the front yard, he saw Minho close his window and draw his curtain while Gally left his open. He heads back to the house, feeling relatively grounded to face Peter one on one.

Stiles reached his room, door ajar with Peter sitting on the bed, his back is resting on the headboard, and reading a book. The lamp gave Stiles the full view of Peter’s scarred side and he was reminded that they would need to take the rune off his body. Recalling Newt’s lessons Stiles decided that he would erase the rune off Peter on his own. Newt deserves the rest.

Peter looked up from his book, staring at him for a moment as Stiles announced that he’d be getting ready for bed. There was a small genuine smile that stretched Peter’s lips. With the scars, Peter looks dangerous. Stiles knows that without it—more so.

He made quick work of his nightly routine and change his clothes. He stepped back into the bedroom and Peter gently snapped his book closed. Stiles sat down on the edge of the bed before speaking. “We should go ahead and remove the glamour rune from your body now.”

“Why, darling. Do I look too hideous for you to sleep with?”

Stiles rolled his eyes at him. “I’ll let you go on your trip around the country with the glamour, but we both know that you’re narcissistic enough that you’d rather have your charming face to help you along the way.”

“It’s a relief to know that you find me charming.”

“Peter, just lift your shirt.”

“So straightforward, Stiles.”

God help him, but Stiles missed the sass. He stared at Peter pointedly before the older man did what he was told. He focused on remembering where Newt placed the rune instead of how broad Peter’s chest is. He had to sense where the magic is coming from since the glamour is covering it.

Upon spotting it, Stiles reached out a careful hand over Peter’s collarbone. The rune revealed itself under his thumb. He used a steady pressured press to swipe away the rune. Stiles noticed that just as before, whenever he uses his Spark, the details of his surroundings sharpened. He made a mental note to tell Newt about that observation.

The imperfection that marred Peter’s skin disappeared. Stiles took in his fill of the man. From the nape length dark curly hair to the ocean blue eyes, and the five o’clock shadow that he is sporting. The danger of Peter’s good looks lies in the fragility of Stiles’ heart.

Who falls in love with a man when he’s trying to break you—when he is at his worse? A man that admits that he won’t rescue you but put himself above the rest? Stiles isn’t even counting the times wherein Peter targeted him and his friends. He half wonders if the Maze and the Scorch had turned him mad.

Stiles can see how different the Peter he knew then, from the Peter he knows now. The Peter with him now is not desperate for revenge, he aches for it still, but not to the point of self-destruction. He can see beyond himself, look after the Betas in their pack and arm them with knowledge.

That doesn’t mean Stiles can’t see glimpses of the Peter he knew then. The subtle gleeful expression Peter wears when he’s in on their scheming. Peter’s hunger for power and his ambitiousness. And the way Peter toes the lines of seduction when he’s talking with Stiles.

Well, Stiles supposes, Peter’s not toeing it anymore since he made his claim. The Alpha had been a touch blatant about it. And Peter is so fucking satisfied when Stiles couldn’t stop himself from leaning in further into him.

“I’m…turning in,” Stiles whispered as he turned his back to Peter and shuffle himself under the covers of the bed. He felt the weight on the bed shift with Peter’s every move. His breath was stolen from him when he felt strong arms envelope his middle and pull him close. “Peter—!” He squeaked loud enough that he’s sure the other werewolves inside the house heard him. This is the most aggressive spooning Stiles had ever experience.

Stiles can feel Peter’s hot breath on top of his ear. He didn’t bother fighting down the shiver and Peter growled in time with his squirming. “I am tempted, darling, to devour you whenever you look at me with parted lips. I’d beg you to control yourself but the innocence of your movement spurs me on.”

“Oh, God.” Stiles didn’t miss being in his younger body—not at all.

Peter took in a lungful of air. “Intoxicating…” Stiles swears Peter is intentionally running his lips over his ears. “Finding slumber would be hard.”

That statement was made just for the innuendo, Stiles can tell. He elbowed Peter. “That’s not my fault, is it? You fucking creep.” Peter huffed his amusement before nuzzling on Stiles and looking for a more comfortable position while Peter spoons him. He can’t wait to have his growth spurt and be the taller one.

* * *

Newt’s not the type to get jealous. He’s also not the type to lie to himself. Recalling how Peter bid his farewell to Tommy, he couldn’t help the twinge he feels inside his chest. The Alpha scented them all, but he took his time with Tommy. Peter cradled Tommy’s face between his hands and rested his forehead on Tommy’s, murmured words that only the werewolves could hear. Newt’s glad that he didn’t hear all the sweet nothings. He could only take so much.

Tommy has this appeal about him that just inspires loyalty, if not love. It’s the honesty in Tommy’s eyes whenever he looks at someone he cares about. For all Tommy’s deception, he is still someone genuine. It’s a contradiction that Newt thinks only Tommy would manage to carry and carry without a hitch.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s happy for his best friend. They had shared a lot of sleepless nights wherein they both thought happiness would never be for them. He couldn’t begrudge Tommy his happiness. Newt just has to accept the fact that some people were meant to be happy, while some have to work for it—and Newt has never shied away from hard work.

It’s been half a week since Peter went on his trip. Newt can tell that the pack is missing his presence. The werewolves cling to him and Tommy—a silent plea for them not to leave. Newt’s not even sure if they were conscious of their actions. Tommy on the other hand has been sighing. It’s expected from a lovesick fool like him, he said as much and Tommy only called him a shank.

Newt kept himself busy. It’s not hard. He’s been writing down his observations about the werewolves and corresponding with his family. He consults his grandfather and parents about their studies of the magical kind of lycanthropy, while he’s asking his brothers about the laws put in place about were-creatures and the magical public’s view of them as the years passes by.

Since the magical community has only letters and Newt is a continent away, letters take days to arrive. Instead of simply waiting, he reads the books Peter lent him. He took note of the supernatural creatures that have magical counterparts, their difference, and how they are treated. He’s disappointed to see that how to care for the supernatural creatures isn’t documented.

He also read up about the Nemeton using the books that the Ministry of Magic provided him and Peter’s. Most books stated the same thing about the stump. It’s the world tree—connected to others that can be found all over the world and it shouldn’t have been cut down. The Nemeton should have grown, but it remained a stump over the years. When he and Tommy dug up the fly in the jar, it’s clear that the stump needs some serious cleansing. Now, he’s searching for different cleansing rituals that would be appropriate for the stump.

He’s also reading up on MACUSA laws in preparation for the reintroduction of the supernatural community. Newt has his cousin to help him with this one. One text and Quintin can direct him which laws he should prioritize and which he can use to their advantage.

Newt has Tommy’s help with the Nemeton and the magical law. It leaves him with enough time for his personal project. At the end of the day, he would crack open a book about mind magic. His Legilimens had grown stronger over the consistent use. Now, Newt wants to know if he can induce a thought into someone’s mind—an idea.

He read one book after another until he found something that could help him. Newt learned how to induce a dream. He could plant an idea in the subconscious that the person would dream about it—making it seem like the unconscious is making itself known. If he continues with his study of mind magic, he might be able to plant an idea in a split second. It makes him feel giddy.

Newt was so caught up in the magical and supernatural that he didn’t realize that he was falling behind his math class. He got his first ‘D’ that day and though he is sure that it isn’t the Hogwarts equivalent to ‘Dreadful’ he is certain that it’s close enough. He let out a groan as Allison and Minho peek at his test paper.

“Mr. Scamander.” Their teacher called out to him. “I know adjusting to your new living condition is difficult, but take the result of this mock test as a sign that you have to double your effort. If this level of performance continues, you will fail my class.”

Newt had never—ever in his life received a grade this bad. “I understand, ma’am. I’ll do better.” Merlin, he also has a façade to keep.

“Why don’t we go to my place after school and review the exam questions?” Allison suggested. “Make it a study session.”

“This is embarrassing to admit, but I’m the only one failing a class.” Newt grimaced. Gally managed to pick up his grade with Tommy’s help since they’re in the same class.

“We don’t have anything important to do this afternoon.” Minho pointed out. “You should accept Allison’s offer since her explanation is the only one you understand. Even Thomas couldn’t make you understand this and that says a lot.”

“Who’s Thomas?” Allison asked.

“That’s what we call Stiles,” Minho informed her.

“Is that his real name?”

Newt shrugged. “He just looks like a Thomas to them and a Tommy to me. You can continue calling him Stiles.”

“Doesn’t he get confused?” Allison’s brows were furrowed.

“He’s used to it,” Minho assured her and turned back to Newt. “Accept her offer—that way you would also meet her parents and then she’d be able to hang out in our place.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Newt sighed. “I’ll tell the others during lunch.” He stared forlornly at the piece of paper in his hand. He picked up his pen and wrote R-E-A-D-F-U-L right after the D.

* * *

Chris should have known that it was only a matter of time before his daughter comes home with a boy in tow. He watched Allison usher the boy inside their house and into the living room. The boy has light brown hair and a very lithe built. His top was overly loose while his pants were tight. If Chris is being honest, he didn’t think that the boy would be Allison’s type. The boy is too…soft looking.

“I don’t mean to be any trouble but you have no idea how much I appreciate this.” The boy said to Allison as they both drop their bags on the sofa. Chris didn’t miss the accent and thought that maybe that’s the reason why Allison likes the boy.

“You’re welcome and don’t worry about it,” Allison assured the boy with a smile. “Compared to what you’ve done for me, this is nothing.” She gestured to the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll see if Mom and Dad are here somewhere.”

Chris quietly went to the kitchen. He got a glass of water and acted as if he didn’t hear them come in. He accepted Allison’s hug and placed a kiss on her temple. “How was school?”

“School was okay.” Allison started. “Frypan baked these cookies that were just—amazing. Like, there’s no other word for it but that.”

He wonders if the boy is the one Allison has been talking about these past few weeks. She hasn’t been subtle on the crush. “That’s good to hear, but how about your actual studies?”

Allison rolled her eyes at him. “I’m doing good, not falling behind. Stiles has been helping me with chemistry. Listen…” She bit her lower lip before continuing. “I invited someone over—he’s here right now, he needs help with calculus.”

Chris made a show of raising his eyebrows at his daughter—looking incredulous. “Is he part of your following?”

“They are not my following—they are my friends and they are really nice to me, so be nice.” Allison pointed her finger at him. “Don’t scare him away.”

“And you want me to believe that he is only your friend?”

“Dad…” Allison whined.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be nice and won’t scare away your friend.”

Allison followed him to the living room where the boy is sitting on the sofa and staring up at the pictures and paintings hanging by the wall. Alerted by their footstep, the boy turned to them—the dark brown eyes widen at the sight of him. Chris doesn’t need to intimidate this one, he is scared on his own. The boy all but jumped up to his feet, blush coloring his cheeks. It was…almost adorable.

“I…uhm…Sir, I’m Newt Scamander, second of my name—err…I’m sorry, I forgot Americans don’t do that kind of…introduction.” Allison must have made some gestures behind him because the boy—Newt, blushed further. It was starting to get to the point wherein Chris is starting to get worried.

He turned to see what Allison was doing and caught her mid-gesture as she tries to make it seem she’s merely fixing the curls of her hair. He raised an eyebrow at her and she cleared her throat. Chris looked back at Newt and extended his hand. “Christopher Argent, first of my name as far as I know.”

Newt stared at his hand for a moment before shaking it. Chris took note of the calluses on Newt’s hand and how warm it is. He expected that the hands of an Ambassador’s son would be softer and smoother. It seems like Newt doesn’t shy away from hard labor—from the placing of the calluses, he guesses gardening. It could be a hobby that he had picked up, but Chris knows that it would be hard to keep a garden if they move from place to place.

“Argent?” He echoed—as if he wasn’t aware that it’s Allison’s last name. “Is it the same Argent in the Argent Arms International?”

Chris approves of the knowledge, he nodded at Newt. “It is.”

“Wow, who would’ve thought?” Newt smiled at him—finally settling his nerves from the look of it. He’s no longer as red as a tomato. Somehow, Chris felt a little disappointed. “Gally would be envious.” They let go of each other’s hands. “I didn’t mean to invade your home, Sir. Allison offered to help me with a subject that I may fail. She’s a very thoughtful friend.”

“That she is—a friend.” He said meaningfully.

“Dad.” Allison’s tone was verging on threatening.

He turned to his daughter. “I didn’t say anything.”

Allison is not buying it. “Well, now that you’ve met Newt and know that he’s a friend, we’re going to get started on studying.”

“And, you’re going to do that here in the living room.” He added pointedly. Friend or not, he’s not letting any boy inside Allison’s room.

“Of course,” Newt answered when Allison seem to want to protest.

Maybe the kid isn’t that bad, Chris thought to himself. “I’ll be in my office. You guys can raid the kitchen if you want snacks.”

“Thank you for welcoming me to your home, Mr. Argent.” Strangely enough, Chris liked it better when he was called ‘Sir’.

He walked up the stairs and made a noise of going inside his office. He then hid far away from the two teens that he wouldn’t be seen, but close enough that he can see them and pick up their conversation. Call him paranoid, but he’s got a daughter—a very beautiful one. He’s been at that age before, he knows how hormones can affect most of their life decisions.

Chris spent most of his afternoon listening to their conversation. Allison explained everything to Newt—slowly and clearly, as if the boy doesn’t even grasp the basics of calculus. Newt listened attentively and didn’t make any moves on Allison. Once they were done, Allison made a short trip to the kitchen to get them some snacks.

The two continued chatting while they eat. Chris saw that there isn’t any attraction between the two. He doesn’t know if he should be glad or offended on behalf of his daughter. Man, being a father is hard. There was a healthy dose of respect for one another that can be the foundation of their friendship. Chris can tell that they are developing a kind of friendship that would last—unlike Allison’s previous friends.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty over that. Still, he knows that if people in Allison’s life doesn’t make an effort to stay, he can’t exactly do anything about it. Besides, if they don’t stay, that just means they don’t deserve to be Allison’s friends. Chris is starting to see that Newt is different—the boy is planning to be Allison’s friend for a long time.

The door of the house opened and closed in quick succession. The clicking of heels alerted him that his wife is home. He tried to rein in a sigh.

As much as Victoria tries to keep her hunting activity a secret from him, the hunter community is still loyal to his family. Victoria wouldn’t be able to keep anything a secret from him or his family. It doesn’t matter that she now carries the same name. They know that Kate would be the next Matriarch and they don’t like the fact that Victoria goes against what Chris wants.

Most of the community thinks that the reason Chris is slowing down on his hunting is that he’s training his daughter. He wouldn’t correct their assumptions. It’s better to let people think what they want to. They wouldn’t exactly be pleased to know that he doesn’t want to involve Allison in any form of hunting.

Chris heard pleasantries being exchanged and from Victoria’s tone, she approves that Allison brought a boy home. The problem with not marrying for love is that they have different ideas on how they should raise their kid. It’s a good thing Allison’s closer to him than his wife. He’s aware of how bad that sounds.

He also heard how Newt charmed Victoria. It made him listen closely and contemplate. Where was that sleek charm when Newt was talking to him? The contrast caught his interest.

The time to bid farewell came and Newt was polite in asking Victoria if Allison can come by his house sometimes. Victoria—is being the way she is, gave him her permission. Chris could have piped up at that point, but after meeting and observing Newt, Chris knows that Newt wouldn’t harm Allison.

He made a show of coming down from his office to start preparing dinner. Newt also bid him good-bye, but with a touch of red at the ends of his ears. He offered to drive the boy home but Newt told him that Stiles—the son of the Sheriff is already waiting for him outside. Chris let the boy go, telling them that they should be careful on the road.

The door of the house closed and Allison turned to him. “I told you Newt’s nice.”

“He is a gentleman in the making.” Victoria agreed.

“You can never be too careful.” He said as he went to the kitchen, Victoria following along, to prepare their dinner.

It's clockwork now for him. If there’s no trouble in the office and no hunt, he’d spend his day doing paperwork until Allison comes home. When Victoria takes her extended trips, he’d pretend that it’s for their business and not her going out on a hunt. They would let Allison do her homework or whatever it is that teenagers do nowadays as they prepare a family meal, giving anecdotes of their day. Well, Chris would share how boring the paperwork is or how his hunt went, while Victoria smiles and lies through her teeth.

Once dinner is ready, they would have a normal meal together—like a perfect suburban family. They would let Allison do the dishes because they don’t want her to grow up spoilt. Chris would finish the remaining paperwork in his office and Victoria would get ready for bed. By the time Chris is done with his nightly routine, Victoria would already be asleep. Chris doesn’t mind. There are even nights wherein he thinks it lets him breathe easier around Victoria.

When did his life get to this point? He mentally asked himself. His teenage self would never believe it, probably rebel at the mere thought. He’d probably ask the old Chris where did all his passion go. It would be shaming, but Chris doesn’t know. Somehow—somewhere along the way of growing up, he lost it.

He tucked himself under the covers and closed his eyes. He didn’t expect to sleep right away, but it was welcomed. Sleep is one of his escapes.

Chris opened his eyes to wake up in a bed. It got him wondering for a minute. He just fell asleep and his already awake.

He moved his head to the left side. There’s nothing different about the room, but something feels…not right. He turned to his right and saw that his arm is being used as a pillow. The person resting on him has their back facing him, but the light brown hair is familiar.

Chris used his free hand to run his fingers over the hair. The person wiggled against him. It took a moment before they turned. His breath is caught in his throat.

Newt’s eyelids were heavy with slumber. His hair tussled—well, more tussled than when he is awake. His lips were pink and pouty as he speaks. “Chris…” Newt’s drowsy tone sent fire traveling down to Chris’ loins. “It’s still early…go back to sleep.”

A beeping sound drowned out the rest of Newt’s voice. For some inexplicable reason, the disturbance irritated Chris. He has to cut off the sound so he can focus on Newt’s voice. He forced his eyes open and hit the alarm clock on the bedside drawer.

Silence took over the room. Chris was dreaming—he was dreaming of his daughter’s friend being in the same bed as he is. What the fuck? Chris kept the shock to himself.

* * *

“I have an idea about your Spark.”

Newt’s smirk could mean a lot of different things—all of it good though. So, Stiles followed him down the basement. The cauldron wasn’t on the table today, it means the idea doesn’t have anything to do with brewing. There wasn’t an obscene number of books on the table either, which means they haven’t had a breakthrough in their research about the cleansing ritual.

Though, Newt is holding a book open.

“What would the idea be?”

“You know how I have been reading about mind magic during my free time for my…personal project.” It wasn’t a question. Newt has been keeping hi updated with what he has read.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I made some progress.” Newt declared proudly and Stiles gaped at him.

Thinking back, he remembered how Newt went home from the Argents with a smile on his face. He wrote down all the information that he had gathered from meeting Victoria but didn’t mention Chris. Stiles thought that Newt didn’t meet the male hunter, but it seems like Newt hit two birds with one stone that night. It’s more like three really, but who’s counting?

“What? How? Does it have something to do with what you did to Chris? Did you do anything to Chris? You didn’t tell me you met him.” He blabbed on.

“What; mixing memory and imagination.” Newt started. “How; read it in the book focusing on mind magic. Yes, it has something to do with what I did to Chris. Yes, I did something to him. And, I’m telling you now—I wanted to make sure that the mind magic worked before telling you.”

Stiles shook his head from side to side. He is a touch confused. “Mixing Memory and imagination?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes, when you first tried to give me some magic, you tried to imagine giving it to me—we’ve talked about why it didn’t work.”

“Yeah, imagination would take more belief than a memory, because if it’s a memory it means it can or already happened and easier to believe in.” Stiles summarized their former discussion. “I get that mixing the two may help, but how can you mix the two of them?”

“First, we increase your memories of magic.” Newt drew his wand. “Lumos.” A light appeared at the tip of his wand. “Remember what this spell looks like—keep it in your head.” Stiles nodded. “Now, imagine using this spell to create your light. Imagine it with fine detail.”

Stiles closed his eyes and think of the light. He thinks of it floating just above his palm. It doesn’t hurt him, but it is warm. It makes his palm tingle. It smells like the summer heat and tastes like melting ice cream.

He opened his eyes and draw his palm up. A ball of light appeared on top of his palm. Just like he imagined, it’s has a tingling warmth, summer scent, and tastes of melting ice cream. Stiles’ eyes widen at Newt. His friend was sporting a big and proud smile.

Newt turned the light at the tip of his wand off. “Nox.” He threw Stiles an encouraging nod. A silent instruction that he should follow.

Stiles recalled what his palm looked like without the light. The basement cold without the cauldron burning, it makes him shiver. The scent of mixed herbs in the air and the taste of each herb hangs in the air.

The light flickered off. They stared at each other for a moment before jumping up and down and holding one another. Stiles put in enough distance between them to speak. “How did you thought of that?”

“In the book of mind magic.” Newt started. “It’s explained there that an effective idea transference through a dream is a mix of memory and imagination. You take the details for the dream from a person’s memory and add the elements that you want to add to transfer whatever idea it is you have. I thought that maybe it would work for you because you can use memories but not imagination.”

“Wait—idea transference through a dream? Is this part of your mind-reading magic? Why would you need to plant an idea on someone else’s…” Stiles’ sentence was cut off upon his realization. “What did you made Chris dream about?”

“I made him dream about me,” Newt confessed.

“What?” Stiles heard Newt loud and clear. His exclamation is more of disbelief. He is not in any way condemning Newt for what he did. He is in full support of Newt making Chris fall for him, but this just has to be a great deal of magic and he doesn’t want Newt getting exhausted again.

“Nothing sexual…well, nothing sexual yet.”

“What!” Now, this is amusement. Stiles couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped his lips. “You’re going to give Chris Argent wet dreams?”

“Not exactly.” Newt vaguely waved his hand in the air. “Chris hates his home life—did you know about that? He adores Allison but hates the home life they have. He is also aware of all the shady hunting his wife has been doing but hasn’t called her out on it. He thinks he can’t because it will destroy the illusion of their perfect family for Allison.

“Chris is also an idealist—a fantast if you will. It is one of the reasons why he follows the code to the ‘T’. Even when the world’s reality is crashing on his shore, he can’t quite let go of that part of him.” Newt ended the psychological profiling of Chris Argent as if everything now makes sense.

It probably does to Newt. Stiles needed a moment to ponder on the information given to him. They might be both manipulators, but Newt has an edge over him due to the mind magic he has going. “You’re going to play on that side of Chris.” He simplified.

“Got it in one.” Newt threw the book he has in hand to Stiles. He caught it easily enough, reading the title; The Standard Book of Spells. “First, I will make his dreams about me but in glimpses; waking up next to each other, doing mundane activities outside, and some snapshots of domestic bliss. Then, I’ll amp it up with something suggestive; me looking dazed at him with a swollen lip, half-naked while my hair is a mess, and blurred sex noises in the background.”

“I think you’re getting too detailed with me on this one,” Stiles commented—because, really, Newt is getting too detailed. He doesn’t want to know what position Newt and Chris would be having in the wet dream. Jesus, he’d need to bleach his brain.

“After that is when I delve into something more detailed.” Newt continued as if Stiles didn’t say a thing. “But, it won’t be an everyday thing. I’ll send him dreams on nights he sees me in the waking world. I’ll up the frequency over time while making the dreams more intense. It will confuse the hell out of him, but it will get him thinking; why is he thinking of someone when he doesn’t feel anything for them?”

Stiles almost feels bad for Chris—almost. “Since he’s a fantast he’d think that maybe he’s just on the uptake that he does feel something for the person he is dreaming about. That’s a good play, honestly.” If he wasn’t holding a book, Stiles would have done the slow clapping.

“Enough about my personal project.” Newt’s smile is satisfied. Stiles can tell that his friend’s happy that he found a strategy to get Chris falling for him. “Focusing on your Spark, you’d be getting what you want because I’ll be showing you spells so that you’d have memories of spells to mix with your imagination. That way, you’d be able to use your Spark.”

Stiles whooped out loud and crack open the book.

* * *

Isaac first thought that the new kids in school were weird—especially Gally. The other teen saved him from being beaten up by bullies and acted like he didn’t catch Isaac in an embarrassing position. He didn’t ask for a ‘thank you’, or made any snide comment. Gally just thanked Isaac for walking with him to their shared class together. Don’t get Isaac wrong, a part of him is thankful and the other part is just wondering because the kindest thing a person has done for him before is to just ignore him. No one had ever saved him from a bully.

The second time it happened, the result was even stranger than the first one. He was forced invited into lunch with the rest of Gally’s friends. He was expecting hostility from Gally’s friends. What he received was warm –albeit, confusing welcome.

He has been sitting with them during lunch and in classes, they share. Isaac doesn’t know if what they have with him is friendship, but he likes to think so. Frypan has been doting, Minho has been teasing him in good humor, Newt has been prying him to open up, Stiles makes sure that Newt’s prying wouldn’t go too far, and Allison has been playful with him. She’s been sending him knowing looks and winks he just doesn’t understand.

Everyone has been easy to get along with except for the one who forced him into their company. It’s not Gally is difficult to get along with. The other teen is just…different.

Gally is someone Isaac can’t quite crack. The other teen would turn up beside him in the hallway unexpectedly and walk Isaac to his next class, even when they don’t share the class. Gally would hand Isaac his jacket or hoodie if Isaac forgets his own. Gally would give Isaac half his meal even when Frypan had divided everything equally.

With Gally’s perpetual silence, he’s hard to understand. Then, Gally would look at Isaac with eyes that say more than they should. It is not pity. It’s knowing—knowing enough that Isaac worries. It makes Isaac wonder if Gally saw the bruises under his shirt. Isaac makes sure that everything is covered, but with how closely Gally is looking, he can’t be certain.

But, for all Gally’s silence and overall strangeness, Isaac likes his company. Gally is simple—he doesn’t ask too many questions, he doesn’t mention the awkwardness of how they met, and he doesn’t make Isaac feel like hiding from him. If Isaac would permit himself to be honest, Gally makes Isaac want his company.

It doesn’t mean that Isaac would be honest. That’s a recipe for disaster—if not more beating. So, he’ll keep that truth to himself.

Before meeting the new kids, Isaac dreads every waking day of his life. He hates being at home. He hates being at school. The only time wherein he thinks he could breathe is when he’s digging a hole six feet under the ground of the cemetery. It says a lot, he knows.

Now though, he doesn’t dread school as much. Part of it is having friends, but most of it is Gally. Isaac tucked that away –very far away, in the back of his mind. Let it be repressed for no one to see but him in his dreams.

It’s another rowdy lunch with the new kids. Most noises came from appreciative mouths that Frypan had fed. Others were discussions about subjects and stupidly random things that make up the teenage years.

Minho’s teasing would get on someone’s nerves and food would be thrown his way and Newt would complain about wasting food—like the mother that he is. Stiles would have a theory or two about a movie that would get him talking ten thousand miles per minute. Frypan and Allison would be making moon eyes at each other. Isaac would try his best not to bask in the warmth of Gally while they sit side by side.

Everyone at the table fell silent when an unknown female student approached them. The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other. A sign that states she doesn’t know what to do now that she had approached their group. The silence probably didn’t help with her nerves, too.

“Is there anything we can help you with?” Newt asked with a smile that seems to make everyone around him relax.

Isaac had also noticed that if not Newt, it would be Stiles who would do the talking when there’s someone they don’t know approaches them. It’s like the two are the group’s spokesperson. Another reason why Gally dragging him to the group is such a mystery. Isaac shifted in his seat—unconsciously scooting closer to Gally. He also missed the way Minho eyed Gally and the look that Gally sent the Asian teen.

“Uhm…” The girl squirmed. “So, the Winter Formal is coming up and the student council thought that it would be good for school morale to have a band from the student’s committee play—besides the band that we’ll be hiring.” Newt’s brows furrowed and raised. A look was thrown Stiles way and Stiles had the nerve to look anywhere but Newt. “So, Scott—McCall, you know him. He’s in the lacrosse team—“

“No, I can’t say I know him.” Newt cut her off—not rudely, but enough to rattle her. She sputtered and Isaac thinks that there’s vicious satisfaction that can be seen in Newt’s eyes. “I’m sorry…” Newt chuckled lightly, playing the part of a gentleman in training. “I didn’t mean to cut you off. I don’t know McCall personally though I do know of him.”

“Well, he mentioned that Stilinski formed a band with the rest of you.” She bit her lower lip before continuing. “We want your band to play a few songs for the Winter Formal.” She ended the invitation as if the group should be flattered that they were being chosen.

“Huh…” Stiles made a noise that got Isaac turning to him. Gally’s hand found its way to his forearm and Isaac tried his best not to pay attention to it. “Sure.” Now everyone is looking at Stiles like he'd just grown a second head.

“Great!” The girl did a hair flipped and asked. “What’s the name of your band?”

“The uh—pologies.” Stiles answers. Newt is now wearing a pained expression. Isaac can sympathize.

“We’ll get in touch with the details.” The girl all but skipped away from their table.

“Tommy…” There was a warning in Newt’s voice. “The Apologies? Really?”

“You could have thought of something cooler,” Minho complained.

“Yeah? Like what?” Stiles asked haughtily.

“Like something that is not The Apologies.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure we can change that.” Stiles gestured wildly with his hands.

“I think we’re getting caught up on the wrong thing.” Gally pointed out.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Minho’s on the piano, Newt’s the bassist, Fry’s the rhythm guitarist, you’re the lead guitarist and I’m the drummer,” Stiles said it like it should have been obvious. “Newt’s the lead vocal, you’re the second because it would be hard for Newt to sing more than two songs in a row. Minho and Fry can be the back-up.”

Newt sighed. “Of course you’d have this figured out.”

“We’ll play six songs—one for the opening, and one for each of our choice,” Stiles added. Isaac’s impressed by how quick Stiles thought about it. “This way we won’t be going to the Winter Formal as stags. Well, Frypan wasn’t—but whatever.” Fry elbowed him and Stiles mouthed the word ‘Ow’. “Plus, we’ll each get to dance with Allison.”

Allison smiled. “I won’t say no to all the dancing. Also, I’m going to record your set.”

Isaac snorted. “Well, good luck with your concert.” He mocked and Gally raised an eyebrow at him. It was a silent inquiry. “I’m not going.”

“What? Why?”

Isaac rolled his eyes. It’s not like his Dad would care if he did or didn’t, but he won’t be given money for a suit. While he can work for one, he just doesn’t care enough about the formal. “I don’t have a suit.” He answered simply.

“I’ll handle the suit.” Gally answered and Isaac’s brows just furrowed in confusion. “I’m taking you to the Winter Formal.” From the other teen’s tone, it’s clear that he is not giving Isaac any other option.

If Isaac’s cheeks turned pink, no one mentioned it. “I’m not dancing.” It’s not a ‘yes’, but it’s not a ‘no’.

“Aww…” Allison pouted. “But, I also wanted to dance with you.”

“You guys can make out under the bleachers after the set,” Minho suggested and broccoli was thrown at him.

“Hey!” Newt stopped Gally from throwing the whole Tupperware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments about the progress?


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, lovely people. It's been a while? This is my chapter offering to every single one of you. I hope you stick around to see where the story will go. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story, leave kudos and comments, and also bothered to bookmark it. That means a lot to me.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I did proofread it. Please, pardon the mistakes if some are left. On to the story...

The subtle manipulations taught by Thomas and Newt are working.

Frypan can see Isaac growing closer to Gally. Isaac’s eyes wander first to Gally whenever the group gets together. He doesn’t wear a confused expression anymore when Gally offers his jacket or sweater—Isaac’s face shows that he expects it now. Isaac is also starting to become physical with Gally—a hand on the wrist, leaning in for their shoulders to touch, and hands brushing each other’s whenever and wherever.

All of these are making Gally smell happy—heated freshwater over a cool autumn air. Frypan’s happy that his friend is happy, but he’s starting to think if he should apply the same method to Allison. The thought came from wanting to have the same closeness of Gally and Isaac, and the benefit of having the next Hunter Matriarch backing them. Though, he doesn’t know how to go forward with it.

Gally looked up from the music sheet he was working on. The other teen had already decided what song he wanted to play for the formal. It has enough meaning that would relate to their planned reveal on that night. Who would have thought that Gally’s a romantic?

“You should ask them,” Gally suggested. “We want Allison on our side. You have to think this through and be careful if you want to thread this path.” He paused—contemplating if he should add another tidbit of information for Frypan to consider. “It’s not easy for me…but—but my wolf wouldn’t have it any other way. My wolf doesn’t want anyone else, so it approves that I am using whatever method I can to get Isaac.”

“So, you’re saying that I should also consider what my wolf wants.” Frypan simplified.

“Because it would be a disaster if you lured Allison to you only to dump her once your wolf found the one it wants.”

Thinking about it, Frypan knows that if that happens, it would be an epic break up. The Hunter community might take it as a slight against their Matriarch and all werewolves would be considered as promiscuous creatures. Their goal is already an uphill battle without adding any more complications to the mix.

He’s going to have to meditate on it first.

The thing is—well, his wolf likes Allison enough and Frypan can admit that he likes Allison but not to the point that he would forsake his friends. He doesn’t think there’s anyone in the world who would have that kind of hold over him. It is both a terrifying and comforting thought. Lately, their lives have been stacks of contradictions. It makes him shake his head.

Thomas and Newt want them to find happiness in their life. Frypan wants the same for them, but they’re all too aware that they aren’t back in the past for happiness. If they find it in the pockets of the life that they’re carving now, then it’s great. If not, Frypan would still live a better life than he had before. There’s contentment in that.

He knocked on the door of Newt’s room. Thomas and Newt looked up from the laptop they’re sharing. Thomas made it his mission to educate Newt about everything there is about muggles. Including muggle bands in preparation of their performance in the coming Winter Formal.

“Gally’s going to play something for Isaac.” He informed the two. “Something from Bruno Mars.”

Thomas hummed between his lips. “Ambitious but I can see that it would clue Isaac in what kind of relationship Gally wants to have with him.”

“Since we’re on the topic of relationships…” That got Newt’s brows furrowing at Frypan’s direction. “Allison…”

“What about her?” Newt asked—almost carefully.

“Should I do the same thing Gally is doing to Isaac to her?” He forced the question out before Frypan even think of hesitating. Frypan watched Thomas and Newt share a look. “I know that we’ve talked about how I don’t need to, but would it help if I do?”

“Allison already likes you,” Newt assured him. “You don’t have to do anything else to have her affection. You had it the moment you smiled at her.”

Now, that just seems unfair to the rest of the Gladers. Here’s Thomas trying to get the right balance of affection for Peter so he’d keep the Alpha on a leash. Newt’s all out manipulating a man twice his age to for them to have the support of the Argents and most of the Hunter community. Gally had to take advantage of Isaac’s weaknesses to have a relationship with him. It’s almost a relief that Minho’s not eyeing anyone. One less thing to feel guilty about.

“You could confess to her on the night of the Formal,” Thomas suggested and Newt threw him a look of warning. “She’d be less likely to take the news of supernatural negatively if you coat it with a love confession.”

That’s reasonable enough. “Should I confess first or—“

“Reveal first, then beg her to talk to you privately,” Thomas said with confidence. “Tell her that you didn’t want your lycanthropy to be a secret to her because you love her and deserve the truth.” They all know that Frypan’s affection for Allison isn’t that deep yet, but there’s no reason to point it out.

“That would work.” Newt seconded. “She knows her parents are hiding something from her—knowing that there are people out there that would tell her the truth would further endear her to us.”

“More brownie points to team supernatural.” Thomas smiled up at him. It wasn’t completely strained.

“I’m going to preface my love confession with a song,” Frypan said. “Girls like romantic gestures, right?”

“Just…” Thomas spoke up before he headed out of the room. “Don’t feel obligated to do this, Fry. I want the rest of you guys to be happy this time around.”

“That’s the thing.” Frypan didn’t think he would need to point this one out to Thomas. “We all want each other to be happy, but we don’t feel like we deserve happiness because of all the things we’ve done—along with the things that we are going to do. People don’t always get what they deserve, so why don’t we just grab everything that we want and let everything else fall into place.”

“That’s a selfish way of thinking,” Newt told him.

Frypan shrugged. “Saving the whole world isn’t a selfish act. We should take whatever happiness we can find along the way.” He can feel his wolf purring at the thought. It’s decided.

* * *

Minho entered the basement wasn’t all prepared to see Thomas bent down on some bowl—face fully submerged and arms dangling by his side. If it weren’t for his nose, he would dive in first and pulled Thomas away from it. But, he smells no distress coming from his friend. He just looks stupid.

“That is a Pensieve.” Newt gestured to the silver bowl.

Minho can hear voices coming from the Pensieve that it got him furrowing his brows. The teen wizard called for him because they were going to discuss how to effectively eliminate Victoria Argent. He can’t say he’s looking forward to it, but needs must be. Minho can’t also say that it’s nothing personal because when a life is involved it always is personal.

He took a cautious step forward the Pensieve without disturbing Thomas. It smells like Newt’s magic—controlled current of electricity with strong tasting herbs. Staring down at it, he can see distorted images of people swirling at the side. It was images of the Argent family to be exact.

Minho looked up at Newt. “Memories?” He asked.

Newt nodded at him. “When I dived into Victoria’s mind, I went in with the intent of extracting memories regarding her hunts and only that. But, sometimes thoughts get muddled along the way especially if they’re thinking about something specific the moment I enter their minds.”

“But, you got what we need, right?”

“Yeah.” He gestured at Thomas. “I had Tommy check them out so he can come out with a plan.”

As if on cue, Thomas pulled away from the Pensieve—taking deep breaths and clutching at the sides of the bowl. He focused on steadying himself before moving away from the Pensieve. Beads of sweats trail down the sides of his face, he was slightly shivering.

Minho grabbed the closest chair he can get his hands on and drag it to Thomas. He all but slumped on the chair, resting his elbows to his knees and gripping his head with his hands. He wasn’t discreet in wiping off his tears. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” Newt moved closer to him to rub his back. “God, she’s no better than Kate or Gerard. How did Chris manage to surround himself with these kinds of people? I know he doesn’t have a choice when it comes to his family, but to marry a sick bitch like Victoria? How broken can his judgment be?”

“That bad, huh?” Minho wanted to know the details.

“Not above killing baby werewolves but wouldn’t outright set their houses on fire with everyone trapped inside.” Thomas provided.

Minho took a moment to let a realization settle inside his mind. He knows his position as the Left Hand, he would witness atrocities and commit them. The thought doesn’t bother him, and the thought that it doesn’t bother him—bothers him.

He wasn’t like this before, but the cruelty was done to him it left him twisted inside. He knows he isn’t the only one. Their experiences changed them and they will never be the same, as much as he can smile all day in front of the whole world. They are cracked with a few pieces of themselves missing and while they can find people in their current present to love and hold, those people will never be privy to what they had done and will do.

The horrors that they witnessed are theirs alone and they can only find comfort, understanding, and acceptance with each other. It’s fucked up. It’s the life that they have signed up for. It’s more than what most people with trauma can ever have.

“We’re lucky with the…scheduling of her…elimination.” Thomas was careful with the words he uses even when it’s only them. They might be planning murder but there is no need to be crass. “She has a planned trip in the first week of next month. She told Chris that it has something to do with business, but it’s a hunt.”

“How am I going to do this?” Minho squared his shoulder.

“We’re coming with you.” Thomas stared at him. In his eyes, Minho can see that he has no choice but to accept Thomas’ decision. Minho nodded in his direction. “Newt would be there for transport and cleanup. I’ll be there because of my knowledge of crime scenes, I’ll be the one planting false pieces of evidence and making sure the crime scene is how the way he needs it to be.”

It’s obvious what Minho’s role is, they didn’t need to voice it out.

“We’ll hit her while she’s on the search of the supernatural.” Thomas started. “We’re going to poison her and make it seem like a supernatural creature killed her.”

“Wait, I thought we’ve already decided that we will let the hunters be the one to take the blame for this one.” Minho wanted the details to be clarified. They need Allison’s alliance for the future.

“Hunters will make it seem like a supernatural creature killed Victoria Argent to get away with murder.” Thomas pointed out.

Minho’s brows furrowed. “So, we’ll make it seem like the hunters killed her, and the hunters that did it made it seem like it was a supernatural creature that did it?”

“It would be tricky, but possible,” Thomas said with a shrug. It’s ingenious. “Now, all we have to do is find out a type of poison hunters use. It has to be uncommon in their community but easy enough to find for those who have been a hunter for a while.”

“I can visit the Argents again.” Newt piped up. “We have a valid reason to. I can show up and formally ask Chris about Allison going out with our group in the Winter Formal. I’ll sift the information from Chris’s mind.”

“Viable enough lie,” Thomas added. “It would also help with your side project.” He turned to Minho. “I would suggest reading up on supernatural creatures and how they kill. That way we’ll be able to set up the crime scene accordingly.”

“Do you have any creature in mind?”

“In the memory, Victoria doesn’t know what she’ll be hunting—but she has a feeling that it would be a Wendigo.”

“I’ll read up on that then, I doubt that she hasn’t mentioned her suspicion to anyone.”

“Fair enough.” Thomas finally got up to his feet. “Now that we’re done here, I’ll head to the garage. The song I want to play for the Formal hasn’t been released yet. I’m planning on recreating it.”

“Wouldn’t that upset the timeline?” Minho found himself asking Newt.

Newt scoffed. “We’re here to upset the timeline. I’d say go crazy.”

Thomas let out a false cheer. “Have you thought of a song you want to play?” The question was directed at Minho.

“I’m thinking Matchbox Twenty. I haven’t decided between Bent and Unwell.”

“Those are some good choices.” Thomas patted his back and the three of them head out of the basement as if they just didn’t plan out a murder.

This would be their life now. It would be like balancing on a tightrope. Minho can’t find it in himself to mind.

* * *

“I say, we go punk rock band—Fall Out Boys,” Thomas said to them while they’re around their usual table in the cafeteria. “Dance, Dance since it is a dance.”

“That would be a good opening song.” Minho seconded.

“I haven’t heard the song or the band,” Newt said. “If everyone else is fine with it, I don’t see any reason for not going with it.”

“What?” Allison asked scandalously—as if not knowing about Fall Out Boys is the greatest sin there is. “How can you be so…uncultured?”

“It’s quite upbeat,” Frypan informed him. “It also has a sick bass line which I’m sure you’d appreciate. Your voice would also work well with the song.”

They all turned to Gally—expecting his opinion on the matter. “I already know how to play the song, I can teach Fry the rhythm.” They all looked at him as if they had expected that kind of reply from him. Which is fair, since he’s the kind of guy that isn’t picky when it comes to music. If he likes it, he’ll try and see if he can play it. It doesn’t even matter if it’s Nikki Minaj.

“It’s decided then!” Thomas cheered.

It amazes Gally how they can keep up with the façade of being normal teenage boys. He doesn’t know if this is them compensating for the times they weren’t able to be normal in the maze. Or, they’re really just fucked in the head. Either way, it makes living in the past easier for Gally.

The mundane day to day activities lets him forget the weight of their mission. He almost feels like a real teen—almost. A strong scent would assault his senses and he’d be reminded that he isn’t just a boy anymore. He’s something more and therefore has to do more.

He brushed his hands against Isaac’s. The other teen scooted closer with a concerned expression on his face. Gally wonders what does Isaac sees on his face.

“Now, all we have to think about is if we’re going to roll in the Winter Formal with matching suits.” Newt’s tone was mocking but they can all see the gears inside Thomas’ head start spinning. “No, Tommy, that wasn’t a suggestion.”

“Listen first…” Thomas implored. “What if it’s not exactly matching suits? Let’s say, matching colors of ties or any other item?”

Allison hummed beneath her breath. “I can see that working. What about me and Isaac? Should we try cohesive colors, too?”

“Definitely,” Thomas answered encouragingly. “That way people will know you’re with us.”

Gally’s wolf liked the thought. Now, he can’t say ‘no’ to the idea. He glanced at Frypan—their eyes met and there was a silent agreement that passed through them. Minho—the jerk that he is, didn’t even bother covering up his smirk. Thomas was trying to wear an innocent look that they don’t buy. While Newt—Newt looks like he’s regretting certain choices in his life.

“What color are we going to use?” Isaac’s tone suggests that he thinks they’re being stupid yet he was amused. Gally wants to tell him that he will have a stable supply of stupidity in his life if he stays. Then again, Gally’s already making sure that Isaac will depend on him—always.

He knows that he doesn’t deserve this. Among the Gladers, he’s the one that fucked up immensely. He did try to make up for it, but there’s no real price on life. He can dedicate all of himself to their cause, it wouldn’t change the fact that he killed his fellow Gladers.

Considering everything, if they do the time travel back in time correctly, the rest of the Gladers wouldn’t suffer—ever. Does that erase all his sins? Does that clear his conscience? Does that mean he deserves to be happy with Isaac?

But, is it a matter of deserving things?

“We should go with pink.” Minho is such a jerk.

Gally’s waiting for complaints. There was nothing. He spared everyone at their table a look. He let his gaze linger on Allison. “You’re willing to wear stereotypical pink?”

“There are different shades of pink.” Allison pointed out to him.

Thomas opened his mouth readying himself to blurt out fifty shades of pink and Gally just—“Don’t even start.” Thomas made a motion of zipping his mouth.

“When are we going to go shopping?” Allison all but squealed. “Someone has to ask for Dad’s permission because I don’t want him to freak once he finds out that I’m hanging out with boys.” She stared at Newt expectantly. The wizard blushed and Gally had half the mind to wonder if it’s magic—probably.

“I can drop by.” Newt’s tone was low—almost shy. “I’ll also ask your Dad if he’d permit you to go with us—as a group, in the formal.”

“You should drag Stiles with you,” Allison suggested. “Drive home the fact that I’m friends with the Sheriff’s son.”

Thomas placed a hand over his heart, playfully acting as if he’s in pain. “I feel so used.”

“Do you mind if I come with?” Frypan asked.

The hopeful look on Allison’s face was painful. Minho’s postured didn’t change but his eyes did become sharper. Thomas shoved food in his mouth. Newt was carefully observing the interaction. Gally instantly knew something was up.

Isaac is slowly being clued in, so Gally distracted Isaac by holding his hand under the table. Isaac’s head turned to him so fast Gally momentarily worried if he got whiplashed. There’s a blush creeping on Isaac’s neck up to his cheek until it covered his whole face and ears.

Gally let the conversation of the rest of the group fall into the background as he focused on Isaac. “I want to invite you over to our place but I want our set to also be a surprise. I’m quite in a dilemma.”

“I can come over when you’re not practicing,” Isaac said in a quiet tone.

“We should also take a day to ourselves.” There’s no mistaking Gally’s intention now. “I’m glad we’re a close-knit group, but I just…I just want to focus on you sometimes—most of the time.”

“More like all the time.” Minho stage whispered and that got Gally and Isaac turning back to the group.

“Minho,” Gally warned.

“I’m fine with it.” Isaac piped up—trying his best to stow away the shyness. “I’d like a day with you.”

Gally didn’t hold back his smile. “Great. I’ll plan something.”

* * *

Newt took care of what he will wear that day compared to any other day he went to school. He needed to look mature without seeming to be trying too hard. He put aside his usual shirts and pull out a long-sleeve button-up, it’s on the lighter side of gray. He topped it off with a leather bomber jacket that complimented his black skinny jeans. Looking at himself in the mirror, he looked like a teen that will be taken seriously despite his baby face. That’s enough for now.

The Gladers didn’t make any comment on his outfit. The same can’t be said with Allison. She kept on giving him knowing looks throughout the day. It let Newt know that when the inevitable demise of her mother would come, she will be open to the thought of welcoming him into her family. That’s already one-fourth of the work done.

They went with their day the same way they usually do. Though there’s anxious energy coming from Allison as their school day comes to an end. They all know that she’s nervous about her Dad meeting Frypan. The Gladers were confident that Chris would like Fry—there are very few people in the world who doesn’t like Fry.

Allison sent a quick text to her Dad during their last subject stating that they would be the ones driving her home. Chris sent a simple reply that says more than ‘OK’. The nervous energy Allison has been projecting changed into excitement.

Since Newt had planted the spell inside Chris’s mind, their paths had only crossed a few times. Most of them Newt wouldn’t even know if it weren’t for the spell alerting him. Chris could have seen him while he was doing errands or the man has been following him around to find out something about him. Whichever it is, it allowed him to send dreams to Chris’s mind.

Being true to what he said to Tommy, he kept the dreams wholesome for the time being. It has been mostly a picture of domesticity, something Chris secretly craves. There was a dream wherein Newt tried to cook breakfast for Chris but failed and the older man came to his rescue—cute and sweet. There was a dream wherein Chris was rushing to get to work and Newt was there to kiss him on the cheek goodbye—very housewife-like. There was one wherein they were simply taking a stroll with their hands intertwined—achievable and Newt made sure that dream looks almost real.

Newt’s outfit upgrade is because he would be upping the level of the dreams. He spent a reasonable amount of research on it. It was painful to ask Tommy for ideas. Even more to actually watch porn for what he had in mind.

What led him to this thinking is Frypan’s words. Fry was right. They should take whatever happiness that would come their way. Newt isn’t going to doom himself in a marriage that won’t satisfy him—not only in the physical sense. He’s going to make sure that he is going to be happy with Chris. It’s the reason why he’s working on this project with renewed vigor.

Newt, Tommy, Frypan, and Allison got into the car he had bought. Tommy trusted Minho to drive his jeep to the Gladers’ place while Gally drove Isaac home. The drive from the high school to the Argent’s residence was short and was filled with music that Newt was trying to select from for their performance.

He parked the car but nobody got out right away. Newt looked at Tommy from the rearview mirror and there was an understanding that passed through them. Meanwhile, Allison seems to be having a sudden bout of freak out.

“Hey…” Newt called out to her. “Your Dad’s going to allow you to come with us in the formal.” He assured her even though he knows that isn’t really the reason why she’s nervous. “I’m going to be the most responsible teen that he has ever seen that he would have no other choice but to let you go with us.”

Allison smiled at him—appreciates his support, then it turned smug. “Oh, I know you’re going to try and look responsible in front of my Dad.”

Newt willed a blush on his face. “And, that’s our cue to get out.” He heard a snort coming from Tommy before they all got out of the car.

They headed for the door and weren’t all that surprised when it opened up with Chris waiting for them. The hunter has his arms crossed, face set as if he’s going into war and it made Newt smirk. When Chris’ eyes landed on him, he turned his smirk into an open smile.

“Mr. Argent, it’s good to see you again.” He greeted with enough cheer. “Thank you for letting us drive Allison home.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?” Chris’s tone was a touch suspicious. A quick casting of Legilimency let Newt know what’s going on inside the man’s mind. Newt knows what to say to ease the man.

“You’re a father, you trusted us with Allison’s well-being,” Newt said in a reasonable tone. “We’re thankful for your trust and we won’t abuse it or throw it away.” He let his tone softened at that last part. It would be something that Chris would consider once he faces Victoria’s secrecy.

“Well, come on in.” Chris widened the opening of the door for them. He accepted Allison’s quick hug and he looked down at Fry and Tommy as the three of them walked in.

“Sigmund Lewis.” Frypan introduced himself with a smile. “Most people call me Frypan.” The name sparked a memory in Chris’s mind. It let Newt know that he listens to Allison’s rambling.

“Stiles Stilinski.” Tommy projected an image of friendliness. “My real name’s unpronounceable, so I go by the nickname.”

“Chris Argent. It’s nice to meet you, boys.” Chris shook their hands. “What brought you here?”

“We’re here for two reasons—well, three,” Newt informed the man.

“This is starting to sound like a business transaction.” Newt saw how the dream popped at the forefront of Chris’s mind.

“I do apologize for being too formal, but I thought it’s only right.” Chris led them to the living room and Allison excused herself to get them drinks. “I’m sure Allison had mentioned the upcoming Winter Formal. We were wondering if you’d allow us to accompany her for the night.”

“We?” Chris echoed.

“We weren’t initially planning on going to the formal.” Newt started. “But then, the student council asked us to perform a set for the night and we couldn’t decline the invitation. So, instead of going as stags and letting another teenage boy take Allison to the formal, we decided to go as a group. Well, except for Gally and Isaac since they’re…an item I believe is a term that can be used to describe them.”

“Why not let Allison be taken by another teenage boy?”

Newt raised an eyebrow at him and made a show of subtly watching out for Allison’s return. “Allison is a dear friend to us and we would like to protect her from others who would like to…get fresh with her.” Now that got Chris's attention, Newt continued. “I’m sure you’re aware of locker room talks.”

“Are you saying that someone…?” Chris let the question hang in the air and Tommy helpfully grimaced while nodding.

“Allison doesn’t deserve that.” Tommy piped up. Whatever ‘that’ he is mentioning certainly got Chris’ imagination running overdrive.

“This way we can make sure that Allison is safe and she’ll have a good time with us. We already promised her that we’ll dance with her.” Frypan’s optimism pulled Chris from his darker thoughts.

Allison walked back with drinks and snacks on a tray. They said their thanks while taking a sip. Tommy nibbled on the snack right away—he’s purposely exhibiting a nervous tick for Chris.

“So…” Allison can feel the tension that Newt created with his reveal. It made them seem like they’re average boys who are not well-versed in lying.

“Your friends here want to take you to the Winter Formal,” Chris explained to her. “They asked for my permission—properly just how it should be.” Allison rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “I decided to give them my permission.”

Allison all but tackled Chris into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“But,” Chris placed a reasonable distance between the two of them. “I want to meet the rest of your friends.”

“Of course!” Allison readily agreed. “All there’s left with are Minho, Gally, and Isaac—and they all get why you want to meet them.”

“Now, for the third reason.” Newt piped up. “We would also like to ask your permission to take Allison shopping for formal wear. We’re planning on wearing clothes with a cohesive color.” He then smiled shyly. “And, to be honest, we don’t know much about clothes. Allison’s guidance will be greatly appreciated.”

“We can ask Mom for help, too,” Allison suggested.

“That’s a great idea.” Newt seconded. “That way she’d meet the group, too.”

“Sounds like you guys already have a plan.” Chris voiced out. Inside his mind, Newt can see how much he appreciates what they’re doing for Allison. Besides that, Chris is starting to see Newt as someone that can be depended on.

Soon, Newt said to himself.

* * *

The first time he dreamed of Newt, he thought it was a one time off. It’s just his subconscious being weird. The second time, it was after seeing the teen in the parking lot talking to Allison—coincidence. The third time, it was after seeing Newt with a friend in the grocery store—it’s Chris’ mind preparing him for Newt to be a constant fixture in Allison’s life. If his mind is picturing the teenage boy as his life partner then—that’s just…his weirdness.

He did observe how he would only dream of the teen when he sees Newt. Chris’ nights are pretty much normal—dreamless when he doesn’t see Newt. It’s a…relief. It’s not a disappointment. No, not at all.

The next thing he thought to do was to test the theory. It’s not because he likes the dreams of domesticity. Theories require substantial proof. To get that, theories need to be tested. So, he investigated Newt.

The teen is the son of an ambassador working with countries concerned about animals that are close to extinction. The Scamander family is old money and quite private from the limited information that he had gathered. Newt’s grandfather is known to rehabilitate animals, his father for telling people how to care for certain animals, his mother for discovering new species, and his brothers for fighting for animal rights. Those information made Chris shake his head from side to side. There’s not even a scandal relating to the Scamander. Definitely old money.

Newt is a year older than Allison—which means he’s behind peers his age by a few years but his grades aren’t suffering. It tells Chris that it’s the constant moving that affected Newt. Despite not having friends his age, Newt has his circle of friends and is known to be polite in school.

Newt lives without parental supervision along with three other teenage boys that are sons of ambassadors. Chris also has a file about them. All of them are friends with the Sheriff’s kid and they mostly hang out together during the weekend because they have a band. They seem to listen to the Sheriff’s kid when he has ideas, but they all wait for Newt to agree to the teen –if the topic is serious, before going ahead with the plan.

Newt can also sometimes be seen tending to the garden of their house. Chris had seen him—from afar, digging the soil and planting a type of flower that the older man isn’t familiar with. He also found out that Newt plays bass—from the type of string that he bought from the music shop.

It’s just testing his theory. That’s the only reason why he followed Newt around. That and nothing else.

Plus, it’s his prerogative as a father. It’s only right that he try and find out everything he can about the boy Allison is spending most of her time with. He needs to know if Newt’s someone he can trust with his daughter’s well-being.

Chris is also good at denying everything obvious when it benefits him or makes him uncomfortable. Like how his sister isn’t following the code. Like his father is a cruel son of a bitch. Like his wife going against what they agreed on.

Everything in his life is fine and dandy. He is not at all waiting for dreams that feature a teenage boy with the sweetest smile he had ever seen. It’s not the reason why he tries to at least see Newt once every two days now that his theory has been proven correct.

Oh, who is he kidding?

He hates his sister and father for all their cruelty. He hates Victoria for not keeping her end of their deal. If it weren’t for Allison, he would like to be kept in a coma if that would mean he’d be dreaming the entire time.

It also doesn’t help the attraction he feels when Newt acts all responsible for his daughter—more so than Victoria has been. Now, he’s admitting it. The attraction –because that’s the only reason why he’d be dreaming of Newt.

He’s fuck—ten thousand ways to Sunday. Of all the people he could be attracted to has to be a boy just a year older than his daughter. This confirms that he is just as insane as the rest of his family.

Allison informed Victoria of their plans and Victoria is excited by all of it. Chris knows that she’s excited that a son of an ambassador is taking notice of Allison. Chris is sure that Allison didn’t inherit Victoria’s social-climbing tendencies, he’s just hoping Victoria wouldn’t push Allison to do something stupid.

“Allison found worthy friends in this place,” Victoria said to him while they plate their dinner. “Who would have thought?” She sounds so delighted by the fact that most of Allison’s friends are people with connections—possible connections.

Allison walked in and helped them with setting the table. His daughter’s good mood got her humming an upbeat tune between her lips. “Oh!” Allison exclaimed. “Can I also borrow the camera for the Winter Formal? I want to record their performance.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Victoria agreed easily. “But, we’re going to take pictures of you with the boys before you take off with it.”

“I’m going to take so many pictures.” Allison’s giddiness couldn’t be contained.

Chris let them talk about the formal and feed off each other’s excitement. He would give his two cents now and then, but ultimately he didn’t offer much of his opinion. Excuse him, he’s still having a quiet freak out over his dilemma.

His night ended the same way it usually does and it is almost painful. Chris doesn’t mind the routine—the mundane every day, but it is the pretending that what he has with Victoria is real that has him grinding his teeth. He can admit to himself that what he wants is a real marriage—with real affection in it.

Chris is tired of playing house with a person he secretly despises—that was the last thing he thought of before he drifted off to sleep.

Pale skin—that was the first thing he saw. Chris had to shift his focus to see whose pale skin it is. It wasn’t a surprise to see that it belonged to Newt. What surprised him though is that Newt is half-naked in his dream.

The teen’s eyes were wide and dilated, face red—as if he was drunk, and lips slick and swollen. There’s no denying the look on Newt’s face. “Can we go slowly?” A bit shy but plenty certain.

Chris is both disturbed by the way his dream is going and turned on. It’s official. He is a sick bastard. “Yes, as slow as you want.” He heard his voice—it was wrecked.

“Good.” Newt’s hands landed on his shoulder—straddling him properly. “I want to savor my first time.”

Newt’s face close in on his and before the kiss landed, Chris’ alarm blared loud enough to wake him. He opened his eyes and let the clock’s noise fall into the back. He is hard under the cover of the bed. God, he wants to be Newt’s first.

* * *

The first thing Peter did, once he was out of Beacon Hills, was to get a haircut. He never kept the fact that he’s a vain man a secret. While he can rock the long curly hair and stubble, he’s certain that it’s not a good look for an Alpha reaffirming his treaties.

He looks wild and not at all in control. Those are the two things he can’t be while traveling to for talks and gaining allies. Peter needs to hold up to Hale's legacy and reputation. He needs to show everyone that while the Hale pack is low in numbers that don’t mean they are not as strong as they were before. He’s even going to go as to show everyone that they are stronger now. He knows that’s one of the ways to gain more allies.

He was welcomed by the Ward Pack. The members eyed him with varying degrees of curiosity. Peter is certain that the news about the Hale fire spread long and wide in the supernatural community. The condition the fire left him in was an open secret.

This is the fourth pack that he had spoken to for the week alone. The other three were quick to continue the treaty they have with the Hale pack and was interested in what Peter had in mind that they didn’t question him much. Peter didn’t expect much from them, they were young. The Ward Pack while not as old as the Hale, they have more experience with tying treaties. Peter knows he much takes extra care with this one.

Ancy greeted him with a smile—happy that he’s back on his feet despite their tangled past. Ancy’s brother and Right Hand—Aldrich was not so happy. While Badrick tried to kept his face unreadable being the Left Hand.

“Peter Hale,” Ancy said his name with wonder. “You sure took your time recovering.” She teased.

“The circumstances I was left in while I was in recovery weren’t ideal.” That’s an understatement that he made with a smile. “But, I’m fully healed—and then some.”

Ancy’s expression turned serious. “I’m sorry about your pack. If we knew, we would have sent calvary.”

“It was a trap.” Peter wouldn’t go into details—just enough to get them hooked into his narrative. “A hunter targeted one of the younger members of the pack. They had him revealing secrets about the Hale house. The hunter circle the house with mountain ash, set the house on fire—even the fire itself has some chemical component that slowed our healing.”

That information got Aldrich paying close attention. It’s a threat to all packs. The information Peter can give them would be valuable.

“Do you know the chemical properties?” Badrick asked.

Peter shook his head lightly from side to side. There was disappointment all around, but he wouldn’t leave it at that. “No, not yet.” Interest spark in their eyes. “I’m…going to investigate everything about the fire after I have reaffirmed all the treaties of the Hale Pack. As much as I want to find the people responsible for the fire, this takes precedence.”

“Why would you reaffirmed the treaties?” Aldrich’s tone was mocking. “There’s nothing left of the Hale Pack.”

Peter smirked as he turned his gaze to the left hand. “I won’t say 'nothing'.” He let his eyes flash red. It was satisfying to hear Ancy gasped from shock. “Right now, my pack is small—but strong. I’d dare say stronger than the one before.”

“That’s great, Peter! It means we haven’t lost an old line of a werewolf pack. This is good news.” Ancy—while she is strong and capable of caring for her pack, she’s not one for assessing threats.

“How many? And, what makes your pack strong?” Badrick asked. Peter took note that the Ward pack—since the change in their leadership, became less covert.

“Since you have a treaty with my pack, I’m going to go ahead and tell you.” He made it sound like they should be honored because they should be. “I have three werewolves, a wizard in my pack, and…a Spark.”

“Liar.” Aldrich was quick to say.

“My heart didn’t skip a beat—my scent didn’t change.” He pointed out with a roll of his eyes.

“You only have three werewolves, any other pack easily outnumber yours. I have no idea what a Wizard is—I’m going to assume that it’s as you’ve mentioned, someone who can do magic. We have our emissary.” Ancy said. “And a Spark? Not only are they rare, but they also keep to themselves. How did you even found one?”

“A wizard can do magic but a higher caliber than a druid or darach,” Peter explained. “They don’t always need rituals or any assistance from magical objects to perform magic. As for the Spark—well, they came to me. They are the ones that healed me.”

“I’m certain that they didn’t heal you for free,” Badrick said.

Peter smiled. “No, it wasn’t free. The price of my recovery is that they want to be part of my pack.”

“Why would they want to be a part of a broken pack?” Aldrich raged.

“They want to keep Beacon Hills protected,” Peter said in a reasonable tone.

From the way, Ancy’s eyes narrowed it tells him that the Alpha bought it. “Werewolf packs are the first line of defense against any supernatural threats. It’s only logical that they would want a pack in their community and also be a part of it.”

“That’s correct.” Peter nodded at her. “They also chose the Hale pack because my pack already has treaties with other packs. We all know that diplomacy is also a part of protecting our territories.”

“That’s quite smart of them,” Ancy commented.

“All of them are smart—despite their age. It’s one of the reasons why I can say that this Hale Pack is stronger than the one before.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Ancy spoke up once again. “We’re happy continuing the treaty with your pack…”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’.”

“We’d like to meet your pack.” Ancy’s tone leaves no room for negotiation—not that Peter would be.

“How fast can they get here?” Aldrich asked.

“If they don’t have any activities after class, they can be here before dinner time.” Ancy was confused by the expression that she’s wearing. “Magic. The wizard calls it Apparition, but it layman’s terms it is a form of teleportation. All I have to do is text them and they can get here within seconds.”

Disbelief was written in the face of the other three people inside the room. Ancy cleared her throat in an attempt to cover it up. “We have enough time to prepare dinner for everyone. Would you mind if we’re in the same room as you when they…teleport.”

Peter smiled at them—wide and welcoming. He knows an opportunity to showcase power when he sees one. “We can do it in front of your whole pack. Just warn them, that way there won't be an undue alarm.”

“Of course.” Ancy turned to Aldrich. “If you could kindly take Peter to the guest room, it would be appreciated.”

“Thank you for welcoming me in your den and hearing me out, Alpha Ward.” Peter smiled his charming smile—the one he used on her when they were younger and hormone-driven.

She blushed the way she did before. “You are welcome, Alpha Hale.”

Aldrich sneered at him till they reached the guest room. The baby brother is as overprotective. Peter can respect that. Still, there’s no way he’d be falling in bed with Ancy again.

Peter pulled out his phone and typed a quick text to his darling boy.

* * *

‘Are you boys free for the afternoon and the rest of the evening?’

Stiles decided to send Peter’s text message to the rest of the Gladers. They’ve been expecting Peter to text them sooner. The Alpha must be doing his best to convince smaller packs without having them pop up. He approves of the mentality.

All the pack members sent him positive replies and so that’s what he relayed to Peter. ‘Everyone’s free. What time do you need us?’

‘The Alpha wants you here before dinner. I would suggest coming around six. I may have suggested that you wouldn’t mind teleporting in front of the whole pack.’

Stiles covered up his snort with a cough so the teacher wouldn’t catch him. ‘You’re awful. I’ll tell Newt. What pack is that?’

‘The Ward Pack.’

‘They’re easy enough to impress. Text you later.’ He locked the screen of his phone and shoved it back in his backpack.

They all acted normal during lunch with Allison and Isaac. Allison has been asking Newt if he had picked a song for their formal performance. She’s convincing him by saying that all she wants to know is the name of the band and not the song itself. Newt relented and told her that he chose the Gorillaz. From Allison’s contemplative look, they all know that she would be searching the songs of the band when she’s home and guess what song Newt picked.

After school, he sent a quick text to his Dad. Since his Dad has the night shift, they wouldn’t be having dinner together, so he just informed the Sheriff that he’d be having dinner with the rest of the Gladers. His Dad text back a confirmation and a reminder that he should do all his homework and not stay up late.

They have a few hours to kill before Apparating to where Peter is. They used the time to think of a way they would represent themselves. They all agreed that they would make it apparent that they’re a tight-knit group and they are not ones to trifle with. They all know how Peter values competency—they’re the same in that area, and they know that they need to be their Alpha’s pride.

Stiles knows that numbers can play a big part in packs but not the same way as power. They wouldn’t hide the fact that they’re strong but they wouldn’t give the other pack a solid estimate on just how strong they are. The Ward pack may know that Peter has a Wizard and a Spark, but they have no idea the extent of their abilities. It would be best to keep it that way.

The Gladers break out clothes similar to the ones they wore inside the Maze. Stiles can understand the mentality towards it. It’s something familiar as if an armor to them. It’s the clothes that they wore during trying times and the same clothes they wore in their times of victory. While he can take out a page from their book and pull out Thomas—he knows at the moment he is Stiles. But, maybe not completely. He pulled out a blue shirt—reminiscent of the one he wore when he was Thomas and a red jacket instead of the red hoodie he wore back then.

They all crowd over Newt. Minho and Fry behind him, holding unto his shoulder. Gally is on his left side, hand on his arm. Stiles was on the right, his hand on Newt’s forearm.

They’ve done this before. They’re familiar with the uncomfortable pull and the nauseating sensation after landing. The popping in their ears was almost comforting to Stiles as they landed gently in front of a large group of people. It’s a good thing they’re all used to Apparating since it would be embarrassing if they vomited.

Peter was next to a woman. Her posture was impeccable, it’s almost hard to believe that she’s a werewolf and not some sort of a debutant. Her eyes were wide at them. Disbelief was written all over her face it was comical.

From Stiles’ memory, he knows that she’s Ancy Ward. Under her leadership, the Ward Pack didn’t last long. They were finished off by a Griever that was formerly her brother—Aldrich Ward. They were all turned into Grievers.

A man posed to attack, Stiles tilted his head to the side. A gesture that only the Gladers would understand. He’s the only one who took a step forward. “Alpha…” He called to Peter. “You sent for us.” He kept his tone low—a touch dangerous to let everyone know that he’s not some baby-faced teen.

Peter approached him—laying hand on his neck and shamelessly scenting him. “I did.” He placed a good distance between them but intimate still. “The Ward Pack wants to meet the new and improved Hale Pack.” He turned to the rest of the Gladers with an arm extended in a form of welcome.

Gally was the first one to walk up to Peter. Their Right hand didn’t show any discomfort in being scented by their Alpha. The next one was Fry, then Newt with Minho being the last one. Though they were scented on, none of them spoke up. The Gladers would be taking their cue from Stiles.

“I believe introductions should be made.” Peter turned toward the Ward Pack. “This is the Hale pack. Stiles is my emissary, Gally is my Right hand, Minho is my Left hand, Fry is my strongest Beta and Newt is my Wizard.”

Stiles noticed how possessive the whole introduction was.

“Welcome to the members of the Hale Pack.” Ancy was diplomatic enough. “I am Alpha Ancy, the Alpha of the Ward Pack. This is my brother and Right Hand, Aldrich.” She gestured to a tall bald man with emerald eyes. “This is my Left Hand, Badrick.” She gestured to the burly man with a military cut hair and an expressionless façade. “I’m guessing that Stiles would be the Spark of your Pack.”

“You guessed correctly.” He didn’t let Peter be the one to answer for him.

Stiles needs to be seen as an odd creature. He has to keep them guessing, that way they would think that it’s only Peter who could get through to him. It would further elevate Peter’s status. Peter would have a pack that has a Spark and the sole Alpha that can control said Spark. If Stiles isn’t afraid of using other people, he is certainly not afraid of using himself to achieve what needs to be done.

“I hope that this doesn’t seem impudent, but we would like to see a proof of…your skill.” Ancy was being extra careful with her words. She can tell that there’s something different about Stiles, but she can’t pin it down—and it shows.

Stiles smiled—the same smile the void wore. All too sharp teeth and dark humor without a touch of humanity. “What…skill would you, Alpha Ancy, would like to see?”

She swallowed hard. “A skill that no druid or darach can do.”

“Seems simple enough.” He took a step away from Peter.

Stiles is alone in the middle of the two packs—a show that he is not at all worried if someone attacks him. He’s silently telling the Alpha that he can take them all despite their number. With everything that Newt has shown him, Stiles is half certain that he can just due to the principle that Newt can take them all out. A student can only be as good as the teacher.

He hummed exaggeratedly. “Let’s see…A druid and darach can’t create light from nothing.”

Stiles recalled what the Lumos spell looks like and let it appear before everyone. He let it start with a flicker and let it grew to the size of a light bulb. There was a collective gasped but Stiles wasn’t done.

“How about lighting this place up?” He spread his arms open and spheres of light erupted from the first one he created. He filled the place as if the light were mere fireflies. It was beautiful, if he may say so.

Ancy was both amazed and stricken by his show of power. Stiles can tell all the wolves can smell the wild yet pure ozone scent his magic is releasing in the air. It’s a very heady smell.

“That’s proof enough, Spark Stiles.” Her use of a proper title is acceptance of him. Ancy turned her head towards Newt. “And, Wizard Newt? How does your skill differ from Spark Stiles?”

Newt gave Peter and Stiles a look, silently asking for permission to speak up. Peter gave Newt a nod and Stiles gave his friend a smirk. “I can do some of what he can do.” Newt isn’t exactly lying, he just omitted the fact that he is the one teaching Stiles. “But, my magic is limited. Stiles can do whatever he put his mind to without the aid of any magical objects. Another point of difference is that I can get magically exhausted.”

“Are you talking about mountain ash?” Ancy asked.

Newt pulled out his wand. “Wizards and Witches use wands, though we also use different magical ingredients depending on what kind of magic we’re performing—but, mostly wands.” He asked. “Would you let me demonstrate?”

“Please, do.”

Newt used the lights Stiles produced and turned them into butterflies—letting them fly away into one direction before coming back in a form of a dragon, then letting the illusion fade before it descended into the Ward Pack. There were startled gasps, ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ can be heard but what stood out was the children’s delighted laughter. There was even a teen that looked at Newt and Stiles with wonder that it almost broke Stiles’ heart.

“Show off,” Stiles said playfully.

* * *

Ancy tried her best keeping her hands from shaking. Staring at the new Hale Pack that Peter had created, it’s a difficult task to achieve. The man wasn’t merely boasting when he said that his new pack is stronger than the one he has before.

For a werewolf pack, it’s difficult enough to find a somewhat competent emissary. Peter has two magic users—both competent and powerful, though it’s obvious one is more powerful than the other. Newt alone can take down a whole pack if he puts his mind into. Ancy wouldn’t want to know what Stiles can do if he was pushed to take action.

Peter’s Betas can’t be scoffed at, too. Gally moves the way a soldier would. Ancy wouldn’t be surprised if the teen already sees the weak spots of their den. Frypan is friendly but he makes it clear that he can get nasty if his pack is messed with. Ancy doesn’t even want to start with Minho—the kid gives her the creeps worse than Badrick and the Hale Pack accepts it.

God, that alone made her want to get a drink with a dash of wolf’s bane. Then, Peter went ahead and informed them of his ridiculous plan of introducing the supernatural to the magical community all to have the Hunters to play nice. If the Wizard wasn’t present, she would have thought that Peter had completely lost his marbles while he was in a coma.

The whole pack listened closely to Peter’s proposal. He was even honest as to why he is going to do it. The truth about the Hale Fire struck fire in the hearts of the members of her pack. The anxious energy drumming through their connection makes the wolf in her want to rear forward to fight when there is no enemy present. Well, there is no enemy physically present—but the Hunters will always be there and their code wouldn’t be enough to keep werewolves safe. The Hale Fire is the testament to this.

Aldrich is staring at her, probably trying to know what’s going on inside her head. Ancy understands that her brother isn’t fond of Peter, but that doesn’t have anything to do with Peter being an Alpha. It’s more personal that has to be set aside. There is no room for personal feelings when it comes to running a pack.

Besides, she can see that Peter’s quite smitten with the Spark. Stiles isn’t hiding the fact that he can be dangerous and that Peter is the one holding his leash. It’s better to let the two be. Ancy doesn’t want to know what would happen to anyone who would try to pull them from each other.

“How many Pack are you planning to create treaties with?” She asked Peter.

“As many as I can.” Peter’s heartbeat was steady and his tone was grave. “We’ll be welcomed better and respected if we put forward a united front.”

“Why should you be the one to introduce us to the magical community?” Aldrich challenged.

Peter’s brows raised at that—not mocking but just wondering. “Well, if you want to be the one to do it, be my guest.”

“Lend us your wizard and Alpha Ancy can do it,” Aldrich said.

“That doesn’t endear you to us,” Stiles said in a light tone but his eyes say how serious the offense is. “First of all, Newt is a person—not an object that can be lent. Second, the Hale Pack has more treaties with different packs than the Ward Pack. All Alpha Peter has to do is get in touch with them and reaffirm it, like what we’re doing now. Lastly, if it hasn’t been obvious to you, we will do this whether you join in or not. All of these—“Stiles gestured wildly in the air. It got a few werewolves flinching back. “—this is just formality. This is Alpha Peter saying; hey, thanks for not attacking Beacon Hills while I was recovering. It’s appreciated. Here, have a cookie.”

Aldrich snarled at Stiles's direction. Ancy saw Peter tense up but he did nothing to try and defend Stiles. Frypan stood straighter, Gally crossed his arms over his chest, Minho flashed his eyes and Newt has his wand out—ready to use it. God, moments ago they weren’t afraid of a stupid stick the same can’t be said now.

“Blood matters to the magical community,” Newt spoke up—still tense but was trying his best to calm everyone down. “We have a method of tracing bloodlines to where it originated. The Hale bloodline is old and impressive—we can all agree with this, it’s another point that would make the magical community listen to Alpha Peter. The Hale has been protecting the Nemeton for centuries—one of the rare pure magical sources there is and we’re all about protecting every source of magic. He also has the case of the fire to present, therefore has the right to come forward asking for aide.” Newt paused. “I mean no offense when I say this, Alpha Ancy, but all points are stack on Alpha Peter’s side to be the one to lead the supernatural community in this endeavor.” He then turned to Aldrich. “I apologize but being…borrowed doesn’t sit well with me. I hope you respect my decision.”

“I do not plan on taking over,” Ancy answered and the betrayed look Aldrich threw her can be seen by everyone. “Part of being a leader is knowing when one is out of their dept. I’m content with letting Alpha Peter lead the supernatural community in this. Though, I want to know how packs would be able to voice out their concerns when the time comes. A system has to be set up for everyone to be heard equally.”

“I’ve already thought of creating a werewolf packs committee,” Peter answered. “So far, everyone that is interested in joining is the packs that I have talked to. I want to include every pack that I can create a treaty with. All packs deserve proper representation.”

Ancy nodded at him. “Well, Alpha Peter, it seems we have the treaty to keep.” She gave him a friendly enough smile—never verging on flirty because she wants to keep her head and Stiles is looking at her closely. “I shall contact the other packs around the area to let them know of this. Are you willing to meet with them?”

“It would be my honor, Alpha Ancy.”

There is no doubt that what Peter’s doing would go down in history. Ancy would like her name written down, too. She needs to do enough to be significant for the change that will happen and maybe she’ll be remembered through time.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dances and confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, people of AO3. How are we doing? Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story. Man, this is getting bigger by the month, huh? Well, anyway, you are welcome to leave comments and kudos. Thank you again to those who did, and to those who subscribed and place a bookmark on this.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, though I did proofread it some mistakes may still get past me. Please, do pardon them. I'm trying my best. Now, on to the story...

Everything is going according to plan. The Ward Pack signed the magically binding treaty and was scheduling when other packs would meet with Peter. They are not pressed on time and Newt would be able to dive into Victoria’s mind before the formal because of Allison’s simple suggestion.

Things are going too well that it is making Newt feel nervous.

It is silly, he knows. Tommy may have laid down a solid plan for them to follow, but it still has enough room that if it is needed they can adjust the plan. It’s just…they’d been taken by surprise time and time again that he can’t help but question any good luck that they are experiencing.

Newt sighed and placed that thought on the back burner. It is his turn to buy the grocery. He’d rather do it while it’s still early. There’s a chance that there aren’t many people yet. Plus, he’d be able to get back early. He will have enough time to check the stack of his herbs before Tommy comes and they start practicing for the formal.

He got out of his car and walked into the grocery with Frypan’s list in hand. The song Gally has been playing stuck on his head as he hums between his lips—occasionally singing the words. He reached for a cart and decided that he would start at the very last aisle then work his way through each while grabbing whatever is on the list.

He’s staring at the rows of peanut butter as he sings the lyrics stuck inside his head. “I could make you happy, make your dreams come true. Nothing that I wouldn’t do. Go to the ends of the earth for you. To make you feel my love.” Damn Gally for all the romantic songs he knows how to play. Why can’t be a metal rock kind of guy that Newt expected of him?

“Bob Dylan.” Newt almost jumped out of his skin. He turned and saw that the voice belonged to none other than Chris Argent.

Well, isn’t this just fortunate, he thought. “I’m…not sure.” He awkwardly ran a hand over his hair. “Gally’s been playing it—for Isaac, I think. It got stuck in my head.”

Chris's eyes wandered to the contents of his cart. “Are you going to buy out the place?”

Newt didn’t hesitate on using Legilimency on Chris. He found out that Chris didn’t intend to follow Newt today. He just saw Newt’s car and gave in to his impulse. Chris had figured out that he dreams of Newt whenever he sees the teen, but Chris didn’t find it suspicious—he blamed it all on his subconscious. The latest dream the older man had is at the forefront of his mind. While the man isn’t craving for a more sexual dream, he does crave dreaming of Newt.

There’s no affection there yet, but Chris is starting to connect romance and relief to Newt.

He blinked at the amount of food he already has in the cart and held up the list Frypan had written. “I’m not even close to being done.” He said playfully then added. “Frypan’s big on cooking and the rest of us are big on eating what he cooks. He has also made it his job to feed Allison and Isaac during lunch at school.”

“Is that why she asked us to stop making her lunch?” Chris was only holding a basket and he started following Newt as the teen pushes the cart to continue with his shopping.

The action made Newt smile. “Probably, Fry’s very persuasive when he wants to be.” He grabbed a pack of oatmeal, making sure it’s the brand that Fry wants. He doesn’t want a repeat of a lecture.

“If I ask you a question regarding Allison and Frypan, would you answer me honestly?” Chris’ question has him pausing mid-step to look back at the man.

It’s a test. There is no doubt about it. Newt knows that if he passes this, he will grow closer to Chris. He will earn the hunter’s trust. It is also an opportunity to been seen as someone mature—someone that is on par with him.

“I’m guessing you’re going to ask if they’re dating. They are not.” Newt didn’t beat around the bush. He can see Chris hanging on his words. “But, that doesn’t mean they won’t in the future. Frypan likes Allison and vice versa—he is planning on confessing on the night of the formal, but you can be sure that he wouldn’t do anything untoward to her.”

“You’re friends with Frypan, why should I trust your word?” Chris questioned him but Newt can already tell that there’s respect for him blooming inside Chris's chest.

“As you said, I’m friends with Frypan—I know him and he isn’t the type of person who would force himself on someone. Besides that, I respect Allison—if anyone would give her anything less than the respect she deserves, I will raise hell on them. It doesn’t matter if they’re my friends.” Newt didn’t let his voice waver.

“That would put your friendship at risk.” Chris pointed out.

“’ Show me who your friends are and I will tell you who you are’, I believe is how the saying goes.” Newt pause for the effect. “I’d rather be alone than surrounded by people who don’t know anything about basic human decency.”

“Not many people around your age thinks that way. You’re smarter than most it seems.” They continue their shopping—stopping now and then when Newt needs to grab something or read what is on his list.

“People around your age had generalized people around my age.” Newt playfully pointed out. “Plus, age doesn’t reflect our maturity—it is our experience. Though teens do a lot of questionable things and it doesn’t even matter what generation they are from. I’m not all that wise all the time and I’m sure you’re the same.” Yes, make it seem like they have more in common than there is.

Chris cracked a small smile. “That’s true enough.”

They reached the fresh produce. Newt let out a dramatic sigh as he grabbed an orange. “I’m not good at picking fruits or vegetables.”

“Then, why are you the one doing the shopping?” Chris’ smile is bigger now—more genuine and amused. Newt can tell he is separating Newt from the image of a teenage boy. It’s not every day Chris would find someone who would point out that he is not all infallible.

“We have tasks scheduled—that way chores are done.” Newt shrugged and started sniffing oranges with a furrowed brow. “Today, Gally’s responsible for the laundry, Minho’s on cleaning duty, Frypan’s calculating this month’s expense, Stiles is checking out our homework, and I’m stuck with grocery duty.”

“That’s quite responsible of you.” Chris complimented.

“Thank you.” He grabbed five oranges before moving to the apples. “They pushed and pulled before agreeing to that. I had to threaten them.”

“What’s the threat?”

“Grounding them for a month.”

Chris’s laughter made few people turn their way but no one paid them close attention. “That’s mean.”

“Mean it may be, but I’m responsible for them.” He told the other man with a touch of seriousness. “If our living arrangement doesn’t work, it would be my head on the chopping block.” He then added. “I never thought I’d be responsible over three other people. It’s a bit scary with Gally wooing Isaac and Frypan wanting to confess to Allison. I sure hope falling in love wouldn’t set their rebellious phase.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What if you fall in love?”

Newt faked a scoff. Oh, Chris is now an open book to him—and it’s not just because of his Legilimency. “I don’t think high school is where I would find love.”

“What makes you say that?” Chris's brows were furrowed at him.

Newt took ten apples before moving on to the bananas. “Besides the fact that I like to be with someone older—I want my first to be my last, and high school isn’t the best place to find that kind of commitment. Though, I am hopeful when it comes to my friends.” He took three hands of bananas while he let Chris stew on the information that he had given.

Newt had appealed to the human, father, and romantic in Chris. Desire may creep along the edges but Newt knows that Chris wouldn’t do anything about it while he is still married. He can’t wait for the formal to be over. A terrible thought, he knows.

* * *

The owl nipped at Minho’s finger. It got him hissing at the pain. He narrowed his eyes at the owl, he was just taking the parcel attached to its feet. “You’re all mean motherfuc—“

“They can understand you.” Newt reminded him unhelpfully.

“That’s exactly the reason why I was going to curse it.”

“It is a ‘him’.” Newt took the parcel and read the cursive letters written on it. “And, they communicate with each other. Curse one and he will be telling the others, then you’ll have an owl rebellion.” He gave the brown barn owl a treat.

“He already cursed one,” Gally informed Newt. It got Newt looking at him reproachfully. “It was the grey one with dark streaks.”

“No more owl duty for you.” Newt pointedly told him.

Minho merely shrugged. It’s not that he doesn’t like the birds. The owls were just creepily intelligent. They know when you’re skimping on their treats. It’s no skin off his teeth.

Newt gestured for him to follow. Minho knows that they received the poison—or at least the ingredient for the poison they need. Gally joined them, carrying the tranquilizer gun that they would be using along with the darts. The two of them would need to be careful in sniffing around. They don’t want to sneeze every minute while they’re in the basement.

The teen wizard placed the parcel on his working table as he pulled out the tools he would need. Newt has the fire going as he opened the parcel. Inside was a flower. Minho hasn’t seen anything like it before. He took a step forward ready to take in a deep breath to familiarize himself with it when Newt placed a hand over his chest—stopping him effectively.

“While we all appreciate your astounding healing ability, let’s try to at least look put together before Allison and her mother gets here,” Newt told him.

It says a lot about them when they’re making the poison that would kill their friend’s mother hours before they go out shopping. “So, are you just like going to cook that?” He gestured at the flower.

“First, I’m going to crush it.” Newt made a show of grabbing a mortar and pestle. He started crushing the petals of the flower, careful not to let the sap get in contact with his skin. “Then, I’m going to put the crushed petals in a pan and let the water soak up its poison. From what I’ve seen in Chris’ mind, the type of pan isn’t specified. So, I’m guessing my cauldron would do the job.”

“That’s it?” Minho couldn’t help but ask. He didn’t think that preparing the poison would be easy. One would think that a lot of people would be going on murder sprees if it’s this easy. But, then again, it was hard to even find a person who sells the type of flower that they need.

“The lesser water used in boiling the poison the more potent it would be,” Newt informed him and he watched as the wizard poured water in the cauldron then adding the crushed petals and some of the sap. “From what I have ready about this plant and brewing, it would be better if I put it into a simmer instead of a boil. More time for the poison to get infused with the water. After that, we’d put it in the darts and we’re ready to go.”

“All you would need is Greenie to create the perfect crime by covering it up with a not so perfect crime.” Gally piped up.

“Poetic,” Minho commented.

Newt covered the cauldron and waved his wand over it. “I got to be careful with the fume, even that is poisonous. I suggest you guys head up.”

“What about you?” Gally asked as he placed the dart a safe distance from the cauldron.

“I have my wand and a thousand spells that would help me breathe even underwater. I’ll be fine.” Newt told them as he waved them off.

Minho was the first one out of the basement. As much as he tries, he can’t turn off his sharp nose. The various herbs found inside the jars of Newt’s lab makes his nasal feel stuffed to the brim. It will probably give him a migraine if his body is still capable of it.

From the living room, they can hear Thomas working on his song in the garage. The other teen is working on the melody of the song. Thomas is humming as he tries to work out the strumming. Minho decided that he’d join Thomas and help him out. It’s easier to feel a song’s melody using a piano than a guitar and it seems playing the piano isn’t in Thomas’s skill.

Minho walked into the garage and saw Thomas scribbling something down on a pad of paper. He walked up behind Thomas and took a peek at what he was writing. He can see that Thomas has the guitar chords down along with the lyrics. Reading the lyrics, Minho knows what song Thomas is trying to recreate.

“A little bit on the nose don’t you think?” Minho asked. “I mean, Fry and Gally’s songs are a touch obvious. Yours is just…hitting Allison and Isaac on their heads with a bat.”

Thomas turned to him. “I didn’t choose this to further manipulate them.” Okay, Minho now feels bad. “This is for me.”

“For you?”

“Yeah.” Thomas shrugged. “Everything in our lives right now—it’s about controlling everyone around us. I mean, I’m lucky with Peter but it’s still…some sort of a game to him. It can be suffocating.”

Minho smiled humorlessly at that. “I get it. To be honest, I’m torn between feeling relieved and envious that you guys have someone—or in Newt’s case, will have someone.” He walked to his piano and started setting it up. “It’s a massive secret we’re going to be keeping for the rest of our lives. It’s daunting to carry alone but at the same time…” He let his sentence trail off. Thomas can fill in the blanks he wants to convey.

“I just…wanted something that hasn’t been touched by our deviousness.” Thomas started strumming along and it helped Minho find out how he is going to play the song with the whole band in mind. “Are you ready to face Victoria?” Thomas asked the moment they finished playing the song.

“If you mean play nice with her before killing her, then; yes, I’m ready.”

“Minho, I’m glad you’re the Left Hand.”

“Me, too.”

* * *

Isaac texted Gally saying that the group should just pick him up a block away from his house. He knows if his Dad sees the car park in front there would be trouble. He doesn’t even want to think about the fact that he’s basically in a relationship with another guy.

The thought brought a blush to his cheeks. Gally’s…well, protective, and Isaac knows the reason why he’s drawn to him. There’s no room denying it inside his mind. While Gally can surely protect him from bullies, it’s a different matter entirely when it comes to his father. So, he walked a block away and was simply thankful that he didn’t have to wait long for his friends to arrive.

Gally’s driving his pickup—stopping right where he is standing, Gally gestured for him to get in. Stiles was at the cargo bed with Frypan, Newt and Minho were in the back passenger seat. They purposely left the front passenger seat empty for him.

Isaac got in with a smile. His group of friends is weird but there’s no doubt that they’re supportive. Gally reached out to his hand and squeezed it. Isaac did the same before they let go of each other so that Gally can focus on driving. It’s a chaste show of affection but Isaac likes that Gally is respectful of his boundaries. He doesn’t push even if Isaac can see that he wants more.

The drive wasn’t at all quiet. Stiles and Frypan were loud at the back, laughing at one thing or another while Minho was singing along with the song on the radio. Newt seemed to be trying to block out Minho’s singing, he and Gally kept quiet with glances exchanged now and then.

They reached the mall—Gally parked to the closest spot he found. They got out of the car and headed to the shop Allison told them about. Isaac let the others take the lead though he wasn’t surprised when Gally slowed down to walk next to him. He did get a bit anxious when Gally reached for his hand.

In reflex, he pulled back his hand. Gally didn’t look hurt but—it was close. Isaac wiped his hand on his jeans, explaining why he did what he did. “Sweaty palms.” Once he was certain that his palms are dry, he reached out to Gally this time. He was rewarded with Gally’s rare smiles.

They reached the shop and Allison was quick in spotting them. She waved at them, almost jumping where she was standing to get their attention. Their friend was standing next to a strong-looking woman with short red hair. Isaac can see the facial similarities between the two of them. There’s no doubt that the woman is Allison’s mother.

It was confirmed when Newt approached the two and the English teen greeted the older woman with charm enough for the entirety of Beacon Hills. Isaac always thought that while Newt’s charm was useful, it was a touch eerie to see it being used. It’s better than his father’s genial mask and that got him holding Gally’s hand tighter.

Gally spare him a glance and followed the direction of his gaze. He turned his head enough for his mouth to be in line with Isaac’s ear. “Newt likes Allison as a friend.” Gally started. “So, he’s trying his best for Allison’s parents to like him. If Newt would meet your father, he would do the same.”

“He doesn’t have to meet my Dad.” He turned to face Gally.

“What about me?”

Isaac doesn’t want to sound like an asshole by saying that he never wants Gally to meet his Dad. It can be perceived incorrectly. “Isn’t it a little early for the meet the parent's stage?”

“You’ll meet someone important to me if the Winter Formal goes right.”

Isaac’s eyes widen at that. “What? Are you serious?”

“About you? Completely.”

Whatever Isaac wants to say was lost as Allison’s mom introduced herself to all of them. Victoria Argent took into consideration the group’s plan on using the color pink for them to have a cohesive look. She told the boys that they should look for suits that have a darker tone so that the pink they want to add would pop out.

Victoria dragged Newt and Stiles to one rack, Frypan, and Minho to another, and did the same to him and Gally. Isaac noticed that the rack they were dragged into had hues of blues and greys that were both dark enough that they’d look black if there’s not enough light. She then pointed towards a row of shirts to one side. “I think the two of you should wear pink button-downs—we’ll look for a hue that would suit your skin. For now, look for a dark color that would complement your skin.” With that, she went to help Minho and Frypan.

“What do you mean by ‘if the Winter Formal goes right’?” He asked as he scans the suits hanging in the rack.

Gally rested his arms on the rack and focused on him. “If you don’t freak out about what we’re going to tell you.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow at him. He’s almost afraid to ask. “How serious is it going to be?”

“Life-changing.”

Another thing he likes about Gally, he doesn’t sugarcoat anything. He may keep information from Isaac, but at least he doesn’t lie. Isaac is thinking that maybe over time Gally would be more open to him—especially if he’s willing to share as long as Isaac doesn’t freak out.

“Life-changing.” He echoed. Isaac supposes it makes sense. Gally did admit that he’s serious about him. He tried not to blush under Gally’s eyes. “I’ll wait and try my best to be…calm then.”

The right corner of Gally’s lip quirked. “It’s appreciated.” He picked up a suit and handed it over to Isaac. “I think the navy suits you.”

Isaac grabbed a grey plaid one with thin black and white lines and gave it to Gally. “This would make more people look at you.” He faked a contemplative expression. “Now I don’t think you should try it on.”

Gally’s smirk turned into a pleased smile as he took the suit from Isaac’s hand.

* * *

Allison twirled in front of the mirror inside her room. The frill of her black dress swayed along with her movement. She adjusted the pink pearl necklace that she has and pointed her toes to check out the pink pump shoes she’s wearing. She couldn’t contain the smile on her face even if she bites down on her lips.

She and Fry decided that she would wear a pink necklace and shoes, while Fry would wear a pink bowtie and socks. She was fine with wearing the same accent color the rest of the group would be wearing, but when Fry suggested the idea—all she could do was nod along. She was sure that if she opened her mouth she would have squealed out a big, loud ‘yes’.

There’s only a week left before the Winter Formal. The boys are spending more time practicing their performance. They mostly left her and Isaac to their own devices which meant Allison grilled Isaac about his and Gally’s relationship. Isaac was a bit shy at first but he soon became open to the idea once he found out she wasn’t fishing for information to mock him. Allison gushed about how Isaac and Gally fit together.

Allison wanted to see if the outfit she’s going to wear on the night of the formal would look good on her. So, she used the afternoon to don the dress along with the accessories that arrived that morning. She ran her fingers over the pearls. She made a mental note to show her Dad how much she appreciates him ordering the necklace for her and have it delivered right away.

Looking at herself intently in the mirror, she likes what she sees. The other thing that has her thinking deeply would be the make-up that she would wear. Now, she admits that she isn’t the girliest of girls. She takes comfort first in considering what she wears then the functionality of the clothes. Having that in mind, she doesn’t spend much time thinking about makeup. She usually puts foundation, fixes her brows and eyes, and then add a little color on her lips—nothing to elaborate.

It’s a good thing that she has her mom to help her with that. She needs something eye-catching—something that would make Fry look at her. She wants Fry to look only at her on the night of the formal.

Allison changed into her house clothes before hunting for her Mom. She walked out of her room knowing that she would probably find her Mom in the office. She knows that she wouldn’t need much to convince her Mom to help her.

When they were shopping, she noticed that her Mom approves of the friends that she has now. She thought it was strange at first since most of her friends now are boys, but her Mom explained to her that the boys were all well-mannered and her Mom approves of that—unlike her previous friends which is fair. Her friends back then weren’t the most respectful bunch. They certainly would look like a bunch of hoodlums next to Newt.

Approaching the office, Allison can already hear raised voices. Her good mood dwindled. This isn’t the first time her parents' fight. Still, she can’t help but be upset about it.

The first time she heard them fight, it shocked her. She never thought that her Mom would ever yell at her Dad. She never thought that her Dad would use an icy tone on her Mom. She honestly can’t decide which is worse of the two—the loud yelling or the quiet anger.

The more she hears their argument, the more she wants to know what it is about. The first time she tried to eavesdrop, she learned that they’re fighting about her grandfather. It seems that her Dad doesn’t want her grandfather involved. Allison knows how protective her Dad can be. She doesn’t have to know the full details to know that her grandfather isn’t that swell of a guy.

The second time was about business. Her mom wants to have her own business. She argued that she wants to be kept busy. Her Dad argued that her Mom can work in their family business. This one particular argument went on for weeks. Allison can still remember how tense their home was back then. In the end, her Dad let her Mom have her own business.

Over the years, most of her parents’ argument had been about her Mom’s business. Her Dad wasn’t all that alright about it. But, there’s not much he can do about it because it’s there now and her Mom isn’t one to just give in to her Dad’s demands.

She crept by the door quietly. It was slightly ajar and she did her best not to be seen through the crack. Her parents’ voices were clear. Allison strained her ears to listen.

‘You have no right to go through my things.’ Her Mom’s voice was close to being shrill.

‘I wasn’t going through it.’ Her Dad’s voice was dangerously low this time. ‘It was just there.’

‘Do you expect me to believe that I’d be that callous?’

She heard her Dad let out a snort—humorless and mocking. ‘I knew something was up, Victoria, ever since. I just look the other way for Allison.’

She swallowed a lump in her throat upon hearing that.

‘Oh, boo-hoo.’ Her Mom mocked back. ‘You’re the one insisting that we live like there’s nothing wrong in the world. Allison had grown up sheltered—terribly so. How do you expect her to go through life with the way you brought her up?’

Allison couldn’t believe the vitriol in her Mom’s voice.

‘Allison is smart—and capable.’ Her Dad insisted and she managed to breathe through the tightening of her chest because of her Dad’s confidence in her. ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting her to grow up in a loving family.’

‘Wake up, Chris. We don’t love each other—we never did.’

Allison caught the choking noise threatening to escape her lips. She knew that her parents fight. Those things are normal in a marriage.

‘This isn’t about us—this is about Allison.’ Her Dad said. ‘I don’t care that you’re seeing someone else, just don’t let Allison know.’

‘Get off your high horse. It’s not like you haven’t been someone else either.’

‘Believe it or not, I’ve kept my vows—no matter how hard it is to stay faithful to this marriage. I’d never compromise Allison’s happiness.’ There was a pause before her Dad spoke up again. ‘Don’t bring your bullshit inside this house, Victoria. I mean it.’

From her Dad’s tone, it was an order. She never heard her Dad order anyone like that before—even when he’s talking through the phone about business. It scared her but at the same time, it took a piece of her heart. Her Dad would do anything for her to have a loving family even if it means he’ll be stuck in a loveless marriage.

Allison knew that was the end of the conversation. She slowly retreated to her room and stared at herself in the mirror. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

The revelations that she had learned her jarring—but, as her Dad said, she’s smart and capable. She doesn’t need her Mom to do her make up. She can learn how to do it herself. If not, then she’s sure that her Dad would give her money to get it done in a beautician's.

* * *

It was one of those rare moments wherein Stiles and his Dad managed to share breakfast. The older Stilinski just got home from his shift and Stiles was getting ready for school. They took the moment to spend time together—no matter how limited it is, and get caught up.

His Dad may have been busy, but Stiles can feel that their relationship is better compared to before. Maybe the knowledge that soon his Dad will be aware of the supernatural made it easier for him to be around his Dad. Thinking back, the secret was the massive wall that placed a distance between him and his Dad. The lies to keep the secret was what made his Dad distrustful of him. It was the distrust that hurt the two of them, so much so that Stiles thought they will never repair their relationship.

Stiles knows that without the unnecessary lies, his Dad would be able to accept the supernatural positively.

“So, the band’s a serious thing now?” His Dad asked him while he was nursing a decaf coffee because he’s going to have to sleep after breakfast.

“It’s not serious—serious.” Stiles tried to explain. “It’s not like we’re planning on making Youtube videos to get famous. It’s just school performance.”

“Hey, most teenage bands only get to perform inside their garage.” His Dad pointed out. “It’s pretty serious to perform in front of a school body.”

“Oh, come on, Dad.” He faked a whine. “I was stopping myself from getting nervous by thinking that this isn’t a big deal. Do me a solid and help me out here.”

His Dad chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’ve been practicing for the past month. You got this in the bag.”

“Oh, my God. Don’t do that cool talk, please.” Stiles put his hands together. “Never, ever try to relate to teenagers. It’s painful.”

His Dad rolled his eyes at him. “Are you set up for the formal? Do you have a suit? Shoes that aren’t sneakers?” His Dad asked.

“Of course,” Stiles answered like it should have been obvious already. “Remember that day when I asked if I could go to the mall with my friends? We already went with Allison’s Mom. She helped us with finding something to wear.” He shared. “She got me this Italian cut suit—I have no idea what that means, and a pink necktie that goes with our theme for the night.”

“A pink necktie?” From the way his Dad’s brows were furrowed, Stiles can see that his Dad is trying to imagine him wearing a pink tie.

“Yeap.” He popped the ‘p’ at the end. “Newt got a pink blazer though, and Gally has a pink shirt—so did Isaac since they’re all lovey-dovey. Fry got this pink bowtie and socks. Minho pretty much cheated since he got a pink pocket square when this whole pink thing is his idea.”

“How about Allison?”

“Oh, she got a black dress. She and Fry decided that she should wear a pink necklace and shoes so that they’d match.”

“You all match.” His Dad pointed out.

Stiles just shrugged. “Hey, they’re all moon eyes at each other—let them do their thing.”

“Why didn’t you asked that girl you liked? Lydia was it?”

Stiles can either make a half-hearted excuse that his feelings had changed or be upfront about his sexuality. He can certainly see more advantages in being open about it. His Dad knowing that he could also like guys wouldn’t lead to the same conversation he had back then outside of the club. Besides, how does a bisexual person dress anyway?

He cleared his throat. “Uhm…about that. So, I’m bisexual and I totally got the ‘hots’ for this one guy who is older than me.”

“What?” It was more confusion than disbelief.

“Yeah. It caught me off guard, too. But he has these eyes and it doesn’t hurt that he has arms that can pop open a can of corn if he flexes—“

“Stop there before you overshare.” His Dad put down his mug slowly. “Do I have to remind you that you’re underage?”

“No, of course not. Do you think I’ll break the law? It’s like you don’t know me.” His Dad stared at him pointedly. “Okay, look—I know I seem to be just like every other horny teen, but, Dad, you can be sure that if I ever have any relation with an older guy I won’t have sex with them until I’m eighteen. Not only would that be irresponsible, but you also have a gun and have the authority to put him into jail.”

“Damn right I do.” His Dad huffed. “Just…be careful. I’m glad you’re honest about this. You have no idea how much it means to me. You’re my son and I’m proud of you.”

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too.” His Dad took a sip of his coffee. “You’re going to be late.”

Stiles cursed beneath his breath when he saw the time on their wall clock. He shoved the last bite of toast inside his mouth and raced towards his jeep after grabbing his backpack. He threw the bag in the passenger seat and started the engine with a little prayer. He almost let out a triumphant whoop when his car started right away.

Stiles got to his high school before the first bell rang. He easily spotted the Gladers in the sea of teenagers. He was just about to approach his friends but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Turning, he saw Scott looking at him with an uneasy smile.

“Hey, Stiles, it’s been a while.”

If he had been the same teen he was before, Stiles would have felt offended by that. But, he had long shed his childish pettiness. “Hey,” He merely greeted back. “What’s up?”

“So, I’ve noticed that you’ve been hanging out with Allison.” Scott started and Stiles already knows where this is heading. “I was wondering if you could help me ask her out for the formal, you know be my wingman.”

Now, Stiles has again presented options on how he can handle this. He can inform Scott that Allison would be going with them as a group. Or, let Allison turn down Scott. He knows Scott as well as he does the back of his hand. Scott wouldn’t accept it if Stiles merely inform him of their plans, his former best friend would think Stiles is hogging Allison for himself.

“I was actually on my way to meet with the rest of the group.” He said to Scott and he can see relief flood Scott’s senses. “You can go ahead and ask Allison.”

Scott’s smile widen. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

Stiles just forced a smile instead of saying anything in return. They walked side by side as they approached the Gladers. Gally changed his stance, it made Isaac stand straight and pay attention. God, the two of them are incredibly in tune with each other. Minho’s eyes sharpened at Scott’s direction and Frypan tense from where he was standing. Newt raised an eyebrow at him, it was what alerted Allison of Scott’s presence.

“Guys, this is Scott.” He introduced. “Scott this is the band.” He didn’t bother with names. He’s sure that Scott isn’t interested in knowing the Gladers’ names. No one greeted Scott and it’s not that much of a surprise. They’re still a bit iffy about the things that Scott did—or could do. Wow, time travel’s confusing.

“So, Uhm, Allison…” Scott started and Allison tried to smile at him but it came out more like a grimace. “The Winter Formal is coming and I was wondering if—you’d do me the honor of being my date.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I—well, we already have a plan as a group,” Allison said.

“That’s—that’s cool.”

“I’m sorry,” Allison repeated.

It was painfully awkward and Gally is obviously enjoying every second of it from his expression. Stiles could have thrown Scott a bone—suggest that maybe Allison can save him one dance, but that would be counterproductive to their plan. So, he kept his mouth shut.

The first bell rang and Stiles can honestly say that they were saved by the bell. “We should…go to our classes.” He said lamely and Newt was quick to walk away followed by everyone else. Stiles can see that Fry walked closely next to Allison, almost warning off Scott. He turned back to his former friend. “See you around.” He doubts it but he can at least try to be polite.

He caught up with the rest of the group and he can hear Newt mocking Scott. “’…you’d do me the honor of being my date’. Bloody wanker.” Newt hissed between his teeth. “He had the gall to ask Allison out but never even thought of starting a proper conversation with her.”

“What do you expect?” Gally asked rhetorically before parting and added. “Since he’s in that sports team, he thinks he’s all that.” He walked away with Isaac in tow.

Minho turned to Allison. “It’s cool that you turned him down—Fry would have been sad if you blew him off.”

“Minho!” Frypan runs after their friend but Minho’s words made Allison smile that it got Stiles snorting.

In a few years, Allison would think of this as another moment that made her like Frypan more—and not the moment they effectively made sure that Scott and Allison would ever be together. Aren’t they scarily competent?

* * *

Frypan stared at himself in the mirror as he adjusts his bowtie. The pink he is wearing on his outfit has a soft hue. It complements his maroon suit and a black button-up shirt. Hiking up the hem of his pants, Fry smiled at his pink socks.

From the mirror, he can see Minho leaning on the doorframe of his room. His friend is wearing an all-black suit, the only thing standing out is the bright pink pocket square. They both look dapper and he’s sure that the rest of the Gladers do, too.

“Is everyone ready?” He asked Minho as he turns around.

“Yeah. I thought Gally would forever stand like a statue when Isaac walked in the front door. I mean, I get that they’re still in the honeymoon phase and all that, but the hormone in the air, man.” Minho complained.

“I always felt that smelling emotions is too intimate—invasive,” Frypan confessed.

“Peter told us it would be hard to ignore with us not being born a werewolf. I still didn’t expect it to be this hard.”

Frypan fought a grimaced. Minho’s superior olfactory sense is equal parts advantage and disadvantage. It’s the only thing that Minho struggles with being a werewolf. “You should probably focus on Newt’s scent for the whole evening. He’s going to be the one with stable emotion I believe.”

“It’s always strange to listen to you guys talk about my smell,” Newt said as he stands a step behind Minho.

He’s wearing black slacks and a button-up shirt, but with his blazer being light pink and not bothering with a necktie. They both heard him coming. They both know that Newt has something to discuss with them.

“I need to put a charm on you guys because Allison wants pictures and Tommy informed me about the pesky little thing about cameras and werewolves.”

Newt pulled out his wand from the holster on his forearm. He didn’t do any fancy flourishing movement as he uttered the Latin word of the spell. They didn’t felt any change but there was a present electric current coursing through them—just beneath their skin. It didn’t hurt them, nor did it make them feel uncomfortable but it was there and they can feel.

“There, feel free to do ridiculous poses for Allison.” Newt hid his wand once again.

Frypan can hear Thomas’ car is parked, he’s sure that Minho heard it, too. They told Newt that Thomas is about to enter the house and they all headed down the stairs. Thomas greeted them with the same uneven smile he gives them. Out of all of them, he’s wearing the simplest black suit with a white button-up and a pink necktie. Still, it somehow made Thomas stand out.

“Everyone ready to head out?” Thomas asked them with cheer.

They all decided that couples ride in Gally’s car and the singles ride in Newt’s. Thomas agreed to leave his jeep—just for the night and not before he parting without saying sweet nothings to it. They’d call him out on his ridiculousness but it seemed to be Thomas’ default setting as Stiles.

“Everyone better be on their best behavior while we’re at the Argents.” Newt’s words were one part reminder and one part threat. They all know it.

The ride towards the Argents was quick. They were parking the cars in front of the house after a fifteen-minute drive. Newt was the one that rang the doorbell for them.

It wasn’t all that a surprise when it was the Argent patriarch that opened the door for them. What Frypan didn’t expect was the assault of aroused scent coming from Chris and directed to Newt. Minho covered up his surprise with a cough.

“Mr. Argent.” Newt greeted and the scent just doubled.

Jesus Christ on crack, Chris has to get a hold of himself, Frypan thought and he knows it’s reflected from Gally’s pinched expression.

“Good evening, as per our agreement—let me introduce you to the rest of our group.” Newt gestured towards Gally and Isaac, introducing them along the way before doing the same to Minho. They all give their best charming smiles and politely greeted Chris.

“It’s nice to finally meet all of you,” Chris said as he opens the doors of his house for them. “Allison’s doing the final touches of her…look, with her mother supervising. Do you guys want something to drink?”

Newt glanced at us pointedly and we all gave Chris nods and agreements. He turned back to the Argent patriarch with a smile just a notch below being flirty. “Let me help out. I know what they like.”

“Wow.” They all turn to Isaac upon hearing his breathy exclamation. “Does he have like—Daddy issues?” Thomas snorted and it turned into a laugh. Isaac turned to the Spark. “It’s a valid question.”

“Newt’s from a loving family based on how much they send him letters per week,” Gally answered Isaac.

From where they are mulling around, Frypan can hear Newt and Chris’ conversation. The wizard placing the last nail on McCall’s coffin. He’s sure that Chris wouldn’t let the lacrosse player close to his daughter. There was a relieved sigh coming from Chris and his words of appreciation were genuine. Newt got the guy hooked on him and Frypan isn’t even wondering if they’d be successful on the hunter part of their plan.

A certain scent in the air got his wolf’s attention. It was Allison—they know that, but there’s a change in it that Frypan couldn’t put his finger on. He turned and saw Allison walking down the stairs. Her hair and make-up are done, accessories perfectly in place, dress hugging her body the right way, and steps steady even with the heels.

Their eyes met and Frypan’s wolf is nudging at him—telling him that the change in the scent is brought about a deeper change in Allison. His eyes moved from Allison to Victoria and back to her. There’s space between them that wouldn’t be questioned by those with less sharp eyes, but the coldness radiating from Allison gave them away.

Gunpowder, metal, and ash—Frypan could almost feel the hot sun on his skin. “You look beautiful.” He told Allison as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

It’s time.

* * *

The pull of the moon settles just between Gally’s skin and muscles. It is a wonder how they managed not to constantly fidget while they were in the Argent’s residence. He can’t believe that two hunters didn’t clue in that they have three werewolves inside their home and they are basically giving the hand of their daughter to one.

Though, Gally can also tell that there has been a shift in the dynamic of the family. Allison stands closer to Chris and distrust coming in waffs from Allison to Victoria. Gally didn’t need the full story. He can tell Allison found out a secret—not as big as werewolves but big enough to plant a significant level of distrust. He’s almost thankful for Victoria’s nature. It is making things easier for them.

Victoria held out a camera and they all posed with Allison in the middle. After serious shots, Thomas started doing wacky things. It wasn’t long before they’re all doing funny poses to relieve the tension from both Allison and Chris’ shoulders.

Chris sternly told them what time Allison should come home and Newt was quick to inform the older man that he would be the one to drive Allison home. Newt threw Chris a cutesy smile—trying to assure the man of his daughter’s safety. Gally had to stop himself from sneezing as he tries to observe if Victoria caught the interaction—she didn’t, and again it was a wonder.

They bid the older Argents good-bye as they hop in the car. He held Isaac’s hand as he drives, trying his best not to pay attention to Fry and Allison’s conversation in the back. They arrived at the school and saw the lights and heard the sounds coming from the gymnasium.

Gally waited for Fry and Allison to get out before he turned to Isaac. “After we play.” He said. “We’ll talk after we play.”

Isaac’s scent turned bitter with nervousness. “Okay, after—just know that I might be nervous the whole night until we talk.”

“I want to tell you that there’s nothing to be nervous about, but I’m nervous myself.” Gally smiled at him good-naturedly. “Let’s try to enjoy the night, though?”

Isaac nodded with a smile before he hopped out of the car. Gally followed after him and he saw that the rest were waiting for them before entering the gym. They made their way inside the gym and heads turn. While Gally isn’t used to being the center of attention, he can still sense that his wolf is pleased by the looks he is receiving. Vain—he never thought he’d ever been, but one learns something new every day.

They kept their promise to Allison and danced with her, switching partners between songs. Though, it was Frypan who mostly danced with her. Isaac was shy at first, but Gally convinced him to dance to one song.

He held Isaac close as they slow dance. They didn’t speak. They simply bask in each other’s presence. To Gally, it was more than enough. He wanted to freeze that moment—keep it in a jar for his viewing, but he knows that the evening has to move forward.

He reluctantly left Isaac with Allison as they go backstage and get ready to play. Like Thomas, Gally left his blazer by their table. They got on the stage the moment the band got off. There was very little cheer for them and it was expected. It got awfully quiet as they get in their places and fixed the instruments in a way that would be comfortable for them.

The moment they were ready, all they had to do was nod at each other and Thomas was counting down before starting the song. The drum got people’s attention, and the base got them nodding. The guitar solo before the chorus got the crowd cheering out loud. Soon, everyone was singing along with Newt to the chorus.

“Dance, dance.” Newt sang the last line. His voice echoed with the last of the guitar’s strum. They let the crowd calm down before speaking. “Obviously, that song was ‘Dance, Dance’, from the number of people who sing along with me I’m sure you know who sang it.” Someone was screaming in the back. They paid that person no mind. “For the next song, Fry chose this for his sweetheart. Enjoy this one, Allison.”

This time, Gally started the song with Frypan not far behind him and Thomas’ drumming just as fast as the previous song. Minho’s the guiding melody of the song as Newt sang. As they’ve discussed, Fry was the backup vocal for the song.

“Run, baby, run, don’t ever look back. They’ll tear us apart if you give them a chance. Don’t sell your heart, don’t say we’re not meant to be. Run, baby, run. Forever we’ll be, you and me. You and me. You and me…”

Gally can see the blush on Allison’s face. The pleased smile on her face hasn’t disappeared even when the song is already over. He faced the microphone. “Fry tried to find a song with your name in it, but couldn’t find an appropriate one. We still hope you’ll check yes.” The crowd was teasing now. Gally knows they have to move on to the next song. “The next song is from Minho. It isn’t as fun as the first one or as sweet as the last one, but hear us out.”

Like the song before, he started with Thomas just a note behind him. Gally controlled the guitar riffs so that it won’t be too powerful and overwhelming as he sang the song. He couldn’t help but connect with the song that Minho chose because of how it reflected them.

“I started out clean but I’m jaded. Just phoning it in, oh, just breaking the skin. Can you help me I’m bent? I’m so scared that I’ll never be get put back together. You’re breaking me in, and this is how we will end with you and me bent.”

The crowd swayed to the song—some even sang the words with Gally. He never thought that he’d have much control over the crowd. He appreciated their participation nonetheless.

Minho transitioned his keys for the next song—even going so far as extending the intro for Gally to tell the crowd about the next song. “I chose the next song, and you know it’s for you.” From the stage, he directed the short message to Isaac. He can see Allison teasing Isaac good-naturedly. Even with the dimmed lights, he can see Isaac’s blush. Still, it didn’t compare to his smile.

Gally started the song and Newt went in the second verse with Frypan being their back-up vocal. The crowd cheered loudly when Gally went off on the rap verse of the song. “If they say life’s a dream, call this insomnia. ‘Cause this ain’t Wonderland, it damn sure ain’t Narnia. And once you’ve crossed the line, you can’t change your mind. Yeah, I’m a monster but I’m no Frankenstein. And, quite frankly I’ve been feeling insane in between my eyes. I really can’t explain what I feel inside. If you knew what I was you’d run and hide. Many have tried to go into the night, cross over the line, and come back alive. But, that’s the price we pay when we living on the other side.”

Newt took over the last chorus. Gally took the lead at the last verse while the other two blended their voices for it to work. Gally saw Isaac wearing a contemplative expression as they end the song.

“Now,” Newt’s voice was enough to calm the crowd. “It’s time for Stiles’ song—I’m half certain he chose this one just so he could show off.” He added teasingly and Thomas protested from behind the drum set.

A nod from Newt and Gally started the song. Newt took the lead on the vocal for Thomas’ pick. The start was slow—almost sweet, but the tempo started increasing as they reach the chorus.

“I’ve been running through the jungle. I’ve been running with the wolves to get to you, to get to you. I’ve been down the darkest alleys, saw the dark side of the moon to get to you, to get to you. I’ve looked for love in every stranger, took too much to ease the anger all for you, yeah, all for you. I’ve been running through the jungle. I’ve been crying with the wolves to get to you, to get to you. Oh, to get to you.”

Thomas didn’t hold his skill back for the song he chose. Gally can see that Thomas let a part of himself go as he plays. Though, through the crowd, Isaac’s expression is one of epiphany. Gally should have known. Isaac is observant and good at hiding just how good he is at it.

“The last song from us…” The crowd let out a noise of protest on Newt’s announcement. “Hey, hey!” He playfully hushed them. “We can’t be up here singing all night—we have a curfew.” That got a laugh and Gally’s impressed with Newt’s charm. “So, the last song—I chose this one. I…the lyrics spoke to me.” With that, they started the song.

Newt is in charge of the vocal and Gally would be the one rapping. “The essence, the basic without, did you make it? Allow me to make this child-like in nature. Rhythm, you have or you don’t, that’s a fallacy. I’m in them every sprouting tree, every child of peace, every cloud and sea. You see with your eyes. I see destruction and demise, corruption in disguise from this effin’ enterprise. Now, I’m sucked into your lies. Through Stiles, not his muscles, but percussion he provides. For me as a guide, ya’ll can see me now ‘cause you don’t see with your eye. You perceive with your mind. That’s the inner. So, I’mma stick around with Stiles and be a mentor. Bust a few rhymes so the motherfuckers remember where the thought is. I brought all this. So, you can survive when law is lawless. Feelings, sensations that you thought was dead—no squealing, remember that it’s all in your head.”

They split the instrumental part of the song to the five of them. Each is given the time to showcase what they can do with their instruments. Gally can say that Newt picked a good song for them to end their set.

At the very end of the gymnasium, Gally saw a flash of deadly red. He let his eyes focus on it. Peter was standing just behind a bundle of teens and no one seems to have noticed him. There’s an uptick on the corner of Peter’s lips. Amused or proud, it’s hard to tell from the distance. All Gally got was a nod from him. Somehow it was enough.

The crowd cheered on as they got off the stage. They quickly made their way to Allison and Isaac. Gally didn’t waste a second—he grabbed Isaac’s hand and pulled the other teen with him. Frypan was much gentler with Allison but the action was hurried as well.

They reached the end of the gymnasium but Peter was gone. The Alpha’s scent lingers but with all the teenage hormone they would have trouble following it. “The bleachers.” He turned to Thomas and saw certainty in the Spark’s eyes.

“How are you sure?” Minho asked—head tilted to the side, probably already following the scent with his bloody nose.

“Just a feeling,” Thomas answered with a shrug.

Gally heard Isaac’s heartbeat skip. He tried to reassure the other teen by giving his hand a light squeeze. Afraid of spooking Isaac, he let the others take the lead.

They reach the bleachers—one by one the lights turned on. Gally wonders if Peter would die if he doesn’t do anything without drama. He squinted his eyes and saw the silhouette of the Alpha approaching them.

“Boys,” Peter greeted them. “You brought…friends.” He said the last word meaningfully. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they all saw the smile playing on Peter’s lips. Not all that friendly, but also not that menacing. The perfect balance to have the intimidating effect that the older man wants to instill in Allison and Isaac.

“Stop being creepy, Peter,” Thomas warned him. He was the first one to approach Peter.

The smile on the older man’s lips widens, teasing this time. “You hurt me so, darling.” He cupped Thomas’s face and rubbed his cheek on the younger man’s. “The performance was exceptional.” Peter complimented them.

“It was okay,” Thomas said with a roll of his eyes. He ran a hand over Peter’s cheek before stepping away. Thomas turned to them, faking nervousness. “How are we going to do this?”

“I’ll show them.” Gally took a step away from Isaac—the other reluctantly letting his hand go.

Allison turned to him. The happy expression she was wearing moments ago is now one of confusion. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to share a secret with you, Allison,” Frypan said—trying to steady her, but unsure where to place his hand or if he even should touch her. “I can’t ask you not to freak out, but—but will you stay long enough for us to explain?”

“I—“

“It’s a life-changing secret.” Peter cut her off before she could answer. “Be sure of your answer because there’s no way of not knowing once you learn of our secret.” Peter’s expression wasn’t stern nor intimidating. He was looking at Allison with a softness that could easily mistake for care. That solidified Allison’s answer, though.

She looked back at Fry—saw his scared expression, and she understood. Allison took Fry’s hands in hers. “You can tell me anything—nothing will change, Fry.”

Frypan placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Watch Gally closely.”

Gally waited for Allison’s eyes to be focused on him just as much as Isaac’s is. He called for the wolf inside him—careful with his control. The wonder and amazement in Isaac’s eyes clued him in when the color of his eyes changed. He let his mouth slowly hang open, running his tongue over his fangs.

Allison gasped at his transformation. “What—“

“Werewolf,” Isaac answered. “Stiles’s song and yours…Y-You sang about a monster, and Stiles was about wolves. I—Gally, is everyone…”

“No,” Newt answered. “Tommy and I are different.”

Allison didn’t let go of Frypan’s hand, but she is looking at him with wide eyes. “Could you…show me?” With the simple request, Frypan transformed. Tentatively, she ran a hand over his cheek and Frypan pressed his face on her palm. “Werewolf…”

Isaac turned to Newt and Stiles—Gally tried to keep his worry at bay. “Are you vampires?” That got Thomas snorting a laugh.

“No,” Newt raised his hands to show that he is going to reach for something under his sleeves. He showed Isaac his wand—it also caught Allison’s attention. “I’m a wizard.”

“And, Stiles?” Allison asked.

“I’m a Spark,” Stiles explained. “Something that, like a wizard, can do magic.” He put his hands together—cupped it together. He showed Allison and Isaac his palms being filled with water. He threw the water up in the air and suspended the droplets in the air. “Ta-da!” He did annoying jazz hands, still looking nervous.

“Expecto Patronum.” Newt waved his wand and a silver-white light burst through the tip of his wand. The light took the form of an animal that Gally isn’t familiar with. It circulated the suspended droplets that Thomas created before going to Allison then to Isaac in a greeting.

Isaac’s eyes went back to Gally. “You weren’t downplaying it when you said life-changing.” Isaac approached him and Gally let out a breath he knew he was holding. Gally let go of his transformation and buried his nose on Isaac’s curls. “I’m guessing Peter’s the one you want me to meet?”

“He’s our Alpha.” He confirmed. He has all the time in the world to explain to Isaac what it means. For now, he’s going to bask at the moment wherein Isaac simply accepted him, approached him with the same trust he did before he found out about werewolves—before he found out that Gally is a werewolf.

“Wow.” Isaac breathed out. “You really are nervous about this.”

“I don’t ever want to let you go.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no turning back, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! How are you? Are you still enjoying the story? I hope you are. Thank you very much for taking the chance to read this work. I am enjoying the journey of writing this one even though it's challenging. Well, let's all have fun!
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I do proofread it. If there are still mistakes that got past me, I hope you pardon them. On to the story...

Newt—along with Tommy and Peter, watched from afar as Frypan has his conversation with Allison. Peter’s brows are doing pretty interesting acrobatics. It tells both him and Tommy that the Alpha is listening in. Peter’s not really trying to hide it, and it’s not like they would stop him.

He caught Peter’s eyes with his own and he leveled the werewolf with his eyebrow inquiry. A silent question of; what are they talking about? Peter glanced at Frypan for a moment before speaking. “It’s almost a heartfelt confession, but Fry didn’t use the big ‘L’ word.”

“Big ‘L’ word.” Newt echoed with incredulity. He understands what Peter is trying to convey. It just sounds stupid so he might have quoted Fry on that one. “How is Allison taking it?”

“She’s being understanding about it.” They can tell that Peter is finding some amusement in the conversation. “They agreed that the ‘L’ word shouldn’t just be dropped all of a sudden—everything should be taken into consideration before they utter the word.”

It’s Tommy’s turn to wiggle his brows. “But, something happened—when Frypan saw Allison, there was a change there. He doesn’t simply like Allison now. We can see that.” He said pointedly about Frypan’s strange new behavior towards Allison.

Peter hummed beneath his breath, eyes narrowed in contemplative. “Werewolves can sense if someone around them can be their potential mate. I would guess that’s the case with Frypan. He saw Allison and saw potential. The change, though…” Peter paused for a moment. “Something must have happened to Allison that made her change—somehow and someway, enough for Frypan’s wolf to notice it and see that Allison will be a perfect mate for him.”

Newt’s eyes passed Tommy, they would be talking about that later.

From the other end of the field, Newt can see Gally and Isaac almost being merge into one being with the way they are holding on to each other. He doesn’t need werewolf senses to know that Gally’s relieved and happy that Isaac isn’t freaking out. He’s happy for their Right Hand.

Checking his wristwatch, Newt saw that it’s almost Allison’s curfew. He looked up to Peter. “You should talk to her. Welcome her or something that would make her feel it at least.”

“I am going to—the moment Fry is done with his…” Peter waved his hand vaguely in the air.

“You better do it now,” Newt advised. “It’s close to Allison’s curfew. I need to drive her home.”

Peter led them to where Fry and Allison were standing. The Alpha cleared his throat to get the attention of the two teens. He worked his charm on Allison by smiling at her with something akin to approval—as if he likes the fact that she isn’t rejecting Frypan because of his lycanthropy. “I would like you to join our run, but Newt tells me that he has to drive you home because of your curfew.”

“Oh,” Allison turned back to Frypan. “I’m guessing I can’t tell Dad?”

“It would be best if you keep it to yourself.” Peter was the one who answered. “There are people who want to wish our kind harm. That is the last thing I want for the boys.”

“Yes, of course.” Allison nodded in Peter’s direction but they can tell that she has questions.

A quick look into her mind, Newt knows that they need to give something to Allison to further solidify her trust in them. He took a step forward. “I’ll explain on the ride back to your place.” He said. “I promised your Dad you will be home before your curfew or on the dot.”

“Okay,” She gave Frypan one last look. “I’ll see you at school.”

Newt led her back to the school parking lot. They took a moment to just sit inside the car before he started the engine. It was Allison who spoke up first.

“So, you guys are really not sons of ambassadors?”

“No, we’re not.” He let out a breath. “We are the ambassadors.”

“What?” Allison threw him a confused look. “Aren’t you guys too young for that?”

“By Wizarding standard, I am already an adult.” He started. “Besides that, what led us to be ambassadors were…extreme circumstances.”

“Will you tell me?”

Newt glanced at her, giving her a show of hesitancy. “I’m thinking of a way how to. It’s…something that no one deserves.” He paused for effect. “Before I go through what happened to us, you have to know certain things. There are people out there who hunt werewolves. It’s for the protection of the humans back then—it turned into some sort of sport for some people. Peter’s former pack experienced that. A hunter trapped them in their own home and set it on fire.”

Allison let out a gasp.

“Peter was the only one that survived the fire and he was heavily injured. He was in a coma for six years—perhaps it would have been more if Tommy and I didn’t help him heal.” He stopped at the red light. “The second is that werewolves can’t get sick—no human illness touches them. The same can be said to magic users like me and Tommy. You can imagine how that would help millions—if not billions of people.”

Allison was a smart enough girl to connect the dots. “You were experimented on.”

He nodded. “Minho got the worse of it. We escaped with help, still, the damage has been done. I…spoke with the Minister of Magic—it is someone that leads the magical community, with a proposal which was accepted. We went here, chose Peter as our Alpha, and our goal is to unify the supernatural and magical communities for the hunters to be held accountable for their actions done against us.”

It was an oversimplification, but he has to be careful with all the information that he would share with Allison.

“That’s…a lot to take in,” Allison said with a bit of a dazed look in her eyes.

“I know, but I think you should know what you’re getting into. With that in mind, you should know another thing.”

“What is it?”

He took in a fortifying breath. “Werewolves don’t do flings. They find people who…for the lack of a better term, comforts them or compliments them and they stay devoted to that person.”

“Are you saying…Frypan…”

“Yeah.” Newt parked the car and turned to her. “I know all of that could scare you away, but…it’s wrong to continue keeping secrets from you. You’re our friend.” Allison’s eyes were getting moist and Newt knows that he played his cards right.

“Thank you.” Allison reached out to him.

Their conversation reached the end when the doors of the Argent residence opened up. Chris leaned on the door frame and was waiting for Allison to get out of the car in getting inside the house. Newt got out along with Allison and stayed behind to have a quick chat with Chris.

The older man approached Newt as he stood just a few steps away from his car. Newt took it upon himself to break the silence. “No one tried anything…untoward to Allison, though…” He bit his lips before continuing. “Frypan, as was expected, confessed to her. Please, don’t be mad?”

“Did you left them alone?”

“No,” he was quick to reassure Chris. Newt knows what they’re playing at. “I was just a…a few meters away from them. Fry didn’t do anything…”

“…untoward?”

Newt chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“I’m guessing the confession was taken positively.” The corner of Chris’s lips quirked up. “Allison isn’t that subtle with her crush.”

“Frypan is the sweetest out of all of us and I hope you wouldn’t be too hard on him.” He said. “I know you need to protect Allison—I will, too…just give Fry a chance? I’m being strange, I know. It’s just they are both my friends, I want them to be happy, and I think…I think they can be good for each other.” He speeds through all of it, looking adorable enough. “But then again, I don’t really have any experience in relationships. So, I’m just hoping here. I—am being stupid, aren’t I?”

Chris laughed lightly. “I understand what you’re trying to say.”

Newt let out what would seem to be his anxiousness. “Oh, good. Uhm…Good night.”

“Good night, Newt.”

He let a few seconds pass with just the two of them staring at each other before hopping back inside his car. Newt drove away with Chris still standing out of his home. It looks promising.

* * *

The night the group revealed their secret is a night Isaac wouldn’t forget. Who would? It’s not every day people like him would find out that magic is real and creatures of the night aren’t as bloodthirsty as the media made it seem. Well, the old media, that is—the modern ones are highly sexualized. That Isaac understands though.

He doesn’t have to think very hard to remember the way Gally took off his necktie and a button-up shirt. Revealing smooth skin and toned muscles, shining under the moonlight of the preserve. Isaac could let out a dreamy sigh just from the memory. Gally’s smug smile even fit his damn face when he was caught staring. Isaac can do nothing about that, Gally has every right to be smug.

But, let Isaac digress.

Besides all of that, another reason why Isaac wouldn’t forget that night is because of the exhilaration he felt when Gally circled him in his werewolf appearance. Isaac thought that his heart would beat out of his chest as Gally nosed at his cheek and take in a deep inhale before releasing it with a grumble. Clawed hands around his waist made his breathing hitch in anticipation—never has he been touched gently by someone stronger than him. Gally is the only.

Isaac reached up, cupped Gally’s face between his hands. With certainty in his bones, Isaac leaned forward and placed a kiss on Gally’s lips—not minding the protruding fangs. The moment they parted, Gally tilted his head up and howled. He was followed by the rest of the wolves starting with Peter, the last ones to join were Newt and Stiles.

Isaac turned to the two humans, asking for confirmation. Stiles gave him a nod with a smile playing on his lips. Isaac raised his chin and let out his howl to become one with the rest.

He is officially a part of the pack—Peter welcomed him before the moon disappeared in the sky. He found out that kissing a werewolf is a big thing—especially in their wolfy form, as Stiles fondly coined the term. Isaac accepted Gally’s pursuit which he has since the very beginning, they didn’t need the kiss to confirm it, but whatever the werewolves need to assuage their instincts.

That night ended with him staying at the pack’s place, sleeping next to Gally. Isaac savored being wrapped inside the werewolf’s protective arms, marveling at how gentle he is despite his strength. In the morning, he snuck back to his house and pretended he didn’t do anything noteworthy that would catch his Dad’s attention.

A week has passed since then. In school, not much has changed—except Gally being more affectionate and their group discussions would sometimes die down into whispered conversations. With the secret shared with him and Allison, the group is now more open about their nightly activities or plans. The two humans are even encouraged to visit the pack’s home whenever they want to since there’s nothing to keep from them anymore.

“Come with me?” Gally asked him as he leaned sideways on the locker by the hallway.

Isaac blinked at him. “To where?”

“I promised that we would have a day together.” Gally reminded him. “If we really spent a day with each other, you might be sick of me by lunchtime. I figured we should start with an afternoon alone first. You’ve seen the preserve during the night, it’s just as pretty during the day.”

“You know I can’t keep up with you if you run, right?” He asked—half teasing.

Gally smiled at him. “We won’t be running. We’ll be relaxing.”

Isaac is not an outdoor type of guy, but he thinks he can try for Gally. The werewolf may not be jumping up and down with excitement there’s still something inside Isaac telling him that this is important to Gally. Besides, they would be spending some alone time—he can think of other activities they can do together apart from relaxing.

“Okay.” He grabbed his bag and took the hand Gally offered up to him.

Some students stared at them as they walk by and they paid them no mind. Some sneer that was sent their way was met with Gally’s glare while Isaac didn’t let them bother him. He honestly could care less about what other people think. He has friends. He has Gally. He has a pack—nothing else matters.

They reached the reserve and Gally took the lead as they enter the woods. They stopped by an open area—a field with grass and wildflowers. Gally unfolded a blanket on the ground at the center of the field, he set the picnic basket and guitar by his side before inviting Isaac to join him in sitting down.

Isaac has a different idea in mind though. He kneeled in before Gally and pushed him down on the blanket. Gally could have fought him off, instead, the werewolf let himself be manhandled by a human. It was ridiculous but Isaac likes it.

He rested his head on Gally’s arm before pulling Gally by the neck for a kiss. From the way Gally answered his every kiss, Isaac can tell that Gally is letting him take the lead. He is fine with that—he is more than fine with that.

He tightened his hold on Gally and tilted his head to one side for better access. Isaac licked Gally’s lips open. The grumbled growl that came from Gally’s chest got Isaac moaning. He felt his axis shift. He opened his eyes and saw Gally on top of him. He didn’t even notice Gally slipping away from him.

When Gally opened his eyes, it was shimmering gold. “We are going too fast.” Gally’s voice was rough and husky as he said the words. “I need to control myself properly or else I might hurt you.”

Isaac runs a hand over his cheek and jaw. “I can handle pain.”

Gally’s eye-color changed to their natural ones along with the softening of his expression. “I won’t be like the one who hurts you.”

That made Isaac pause from his action. His eyes unintentionally widening at Gally and he knows his reaction gave him away. “What? How—“

“I can smell it when you’re bruised.”

That information got Isaac stiffening under Gally. He wanted to ask what it smells like—if it is harsh on Gally’s nose if it is an unattractive scent. Isaac would guess that the answer to all of those questions wouldn’t be nice.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.” He doesn’t want to ruin their afternoon together.

“You shouldn’t be hurt at all,” Gally said with a huff as he got off Isaac. The human teen missed the wait on top of him immediately. Gally reached for the picnic basket and produced a small tin jar. “This is a balm that Newt made. It heals bruises—instantly.”

Isaac sat up. He stared at the jar first then at Gally. He hasn’t exactly been afraid of people knowing about his Dad’s treatment of him, but he does feel shame. He is tall and a touch burly. He could fight back—it’s just…fear paralyzes him. The fear of being put back in that cramped space. Though he knows it doesn’t matter if he fights back or not. His Dad will put him there when the mood strikes. He had long figured out that abuse has no reason and no rhyme.

He turned his back to Gally. One by one, he took off his clothes to reveal his back to the werewolf. He heard a growl that means anger coming from Gally. “When you want them gone, tell me and they’re gone.” Gally sounded so confident that Isaac almost believed him.

“It’s…my Dad.”

“Thomas’ Dad is the Sheriff and Newt has a lawyer cousin,” Gally said to him as he gently applies the balm on Isaac’s back. “Money won’t be a problem since we’re being compensated for what we’re doing here. I can support you.”

Isaac scoffed a laugh. “You are far too young to be a sugar-daddy.”

“I’m being serious.” Gally placed a kiss on his nape. “When you want him gone, he will be gone.” Gally’s conviction left no room for arguments.

Isaac turned to the werewolf. Gally’s demeanor was one of determination. He will make Isaac’s Dad disappear the moment he asks. “You are insane.”

Gally surged forward and kissed him—their tongues meeting to dance and Isaac’s breath was taken away. Isaac’s chest was heaving when they parted. “Just say the word and he will be out of your life. He won’t ever touch you again. You won’t see him unless you want to.”

It’s heady the power Gally’s giving him. He placed a chaste kiss on Gally’s lips. “I believe you.”

“Besides this balm, I’m also giving you a spare key to the house.” Gally wrapped him in an embrace. “You don’t need permission to come over, you’re welcomed any time.”

Isaac never hoped for much in his life, but if he did, he’s certain that this is beyond whatever he could have.

* * *

Minho barely felt the weeks pass by. The pack welcomed Isaac with open arms, though they are not yet trading deep secrets with him. They probably won’t be for a long time. Once they do, they can’t tell him everything, and he can tell that Isaac will notice. The same way he noticed that Allison isn’t completely part of the pack, Isaac doesn’t ask questions—not yet, but he is observing them closely.

Why did Gally have to choose a smart one? Minho asks himself. Competency Kink, it would doom them all.

Allison isn’t that far from noticing the differential treatment and Frypan has to do something about it before it gets worse. Then again, maybe Minho can provide a suitable distraction for the future Matriarch.

Everything needed for Victoria’s…there’s no other way of putting it—assassination. Minho had read up on how Wendigos kill their prey. With the help of Newt’s magic, he had a visual on how he should move for his tracks to be as close to a Wendigo is. To be on the safer side, they made gloves that are a replica of a Wendigo’s claws and he wouldn’t be mauling Victoria by the mouth so there won’t be any traces of saliva.

He grabbed the duffle bag that has what he needs from under his bed. After they are done with their mission, he would be burning the bag and disposing of everything they use. He already has a place in mind.

Minho met up with Newt and Thomas in the backyard. Both wearing their serious faces on, and Minho couldn’t help but smirk at them for a bit. It’s not that he isn’t taking their task seriously, it’s just the way he copes.

Nods were exchanged and no words were spoken. The three of them are ready for what they need to do. Newt apparated them the moment their hands touched a part of his body. They quickly hid in the shadows provided by the trees. Thomas was the one that cast a Notice-Me-Not around them to add an element of surprise and security.

Minho took in a deep breath. He took in each scent that is surrounding them. He found no foreign scent that lingers on Victoria’s person. “She’s not here yet.” He informed the two.

“Good,” Newt said. “We have time to deal with the Wendigo.”

As if on cue, Minho heard a growl coming from one direction. It was muted by distance. He tilted his head to the side. “This way.” Thomas and Newt followed after him.

Minho hears the creature clearer the closer they get to it. He is also starting to pick up the scent it has under the mud that it is using as a cover. He took in another deep breath. There’s a tangy scent in the air that lets him know that there is blood spilled somewhere. It could be that the wendigo is injured, or it has a victim.

It wasn’t long before they saw the figure of the creature they are following. The charm surrounding them must have not been as strong as Newt’s because the moment they stepped on a dried twig, the wendigo’s head snapped to where they are coming from. Fully shifted and eyes glowing white in a sneer and a snarl.

“We should try to rea—“Newt didn’t have the chance to finish what he was saying. The Wendigo charged at them.

Now, Minho knows that they should talk to the creature first before becoming its judge, jury, and executioner, but he can’t leave to chance the lives of his friends. He shifted and used his speed to knock the Wendigo on its back. He snarled at it as he poised to slit the throat. Unfortunately, the Wendigo is stronger than him and was able to hit him strong enough he flew a few meters up in the air. If it weren’t for Peter’s training, he would have landed on his back but he managed to stay upright and charge once again before the creature even reaches Thomas and Newt.

He hooked an arm around the neck of the Wendigo. He stopped the creature from closing the last few feet distancing it from his friends. Minho didn’t hesitate, he used his other hand to slit the Wendigo’s throat. Blood spluttered and oozed, he didn’t let go until the fight and life seeped out of the creature with its every twitch.

“Jesus Christ!” Thomas yelled out as they take a step back, the blood almost got to them.

“We could have reasoned with it,” Newt told him.

Minho let the body fall on the floor. “Do you really believe that?”

“I—“ Newt hesitated, it was something Minho doesn’t witness often.

“I can’t take the chance—I won’t,” Minho spoke with conviction. “If a creature attacks us first, I’m not holding anything back. I’ll go in for the kill.”

“Full shifted Wendigos means they are too hungry to listen to reason.” Thomas piped up. “I’m sorry, Newt.”

“Okay.” Newt swallowed hard. “I understand.”

Over the natural scent surrounding them, Minho picked up gunpowder in the air. He strained his ears to hear. The steps—he’d guess at least three hunters are coming their way. He turned back to his friends. “They’re here—hide.”

Newt twirled his wand and Thomas made a pushing motion with his hands. Ozone assaulted his senses as it rushes by him. Nothing in the forest was disturbed but Minho can smell the change in the surrounding.

The spell was cast just in time as the hunters enter their line of sight. Their eyes went past them but not through the corpse of the Wendigo. Victoria stepped forward to assess the corpse. He was tempted to just surge forward and snap her neck. She was so close, it would be so easy with his werewolf strength.

Thomas pulled Minho and Newt shoved the duffle bag on his chest then pointed towards the direction the bullet should come from. He took the bag and made his way carefully to his vantage point even with the spell making it easier for him. He placed a reasonable distance between him and the hunters. He opened the bag and set the gun quickly—the way Gally taught him. With his werewolf eyesight, he didn’t need the sniper scope.

He aimed at Victoria first. The other two hunters went on high alert the moment Victoria was shot. Unfortunately for them, Newt and Thomas froze them. It made it possible for Minho to shoot them. The first part of their task was done, it’s time for the second part.

He jogged back to his friends. The effect of the poison was instantaneous. The hunters were paralyzed and couldn’t even blink, it was almost funny. Though, the shutting off of the bodily systems would take a while.

He saw the panicked eyes the hunters were giving them. Well, except for Victoria. She was furious, her expression stuck in shock but her eyes were blazing. Minho’s wolf purred just at the base of his skull—satisfied.

“Hello, Victoria.” Thomas greeted the woman with a manic smile. “You didn’t see this coming, huh?” The only answer he got was the huffing of breaths. “Yeah, Yeah—I know, we’ll pay for this or whatever is running through that head of yours.”

Minho pulled out the gloves from the duffle bag and put it on. He started on the men on Victoria’s side. He grabbed the hunters by their ankles and dragged them a few meters away from Victoria. Later, they would make it seem like she tried running away but unfortunately met her demise still. Newt waved his wand and the trail disappeared. The wizard then vanished the body of the Wendigo along with its blood.

“We’re going to get away with this, though,” Thomas said to Victoria. “Just…know this isn’t anything personal. We’re just trying to save the world—and sacrifices had to be made. You should be honored, your death will pave the way to a better future. You can rest knowing that we’ll take care of your family. Fry will treat Allison like the princess she is, and Chris…well, I’m sure Newt has some idea.” The giggle he let out can have him certified to be insane.

“It’s the rush of magic,” Newt said to Minho as a form of explanation. “He’s…let’s just say, magic drunk.”

He shook his head lightly from side to side. Victoria let out a gasped through her slacked mouth and started convulsing. There was a few seconds before the other two hunters were convulsing as well. Minho rolled his shoulders back before going down to work.

He slashed the faces and chests of the hunters before opening up their bellies and making it seem that they have been feasted on by a wild animal. Still, they didn’t take any body part—that will make the police question what has happened. They moved onto Victoria’s corpse.

Minho took one look at it and decided he would be cutting her in half. He didn’t bother with her face, he went straight for her stomach. He cut through the flesh and snapped the spine into two with ease. He left a few slash marks on her thighs and calves—marks that would make it look like she tried to run away.

Once he was done, he stared at his friends. They were both wearing somber expression, knowing that he was a bit excessive in cutting up Victoria. He’s waiting for reproach but all he got was a pat on the back and an understanding nod.

By the time Thomas was done laying false evidence around the area, the blood on Minho’s shirt has turned brown and crusted. They didn’t comment on it even when they know that he has a spare shirt in the duffle bag. Minho knows that his behavior is questionable, but it was…making him feel alive.

He got up to his feet—almost losing balance as he dry heave at the nearest tree. Newt was quickly by his side, waving his wand to check if there’s anything wrong with him. Minho gently pushed aside his hand.

“What do you need?” Newt asked.

“I’m fine.” He forced out.

They finished their mission and apparated back. Minho headed straight to his room with the intention of showering. The moment his eyes landed on his bloodied image, he just had to make sure. He flashed his eyes and saw that its color remained golden. He didn’t regret his viciousness.

* * *

Werewolves are known to be prideful creatures. Peter, being born as one, is aware of that. He used to be a victim of it, but humbling experiences showed him how blinding it could be. It also didn’t hurt to have a pack that reminds him of his mortality. One would think he would hate his pack because of it, but all he feels is a sense of gratefulness and enlightenment.

Meeting with other packs, he didn’t anticipate their willingness to work together. News of his plan to create a council of werewolf packs spread and pack Alphas are willing to meet with him to have a discussion. Those who have affiliation with his pack are accommodating the Alpha’s that enter their territory to be a part of the discussion. It made the unification of werewolf packs easier.

Despite that, there are still skeptics. He understands those but sometimes they come forward with theories that are just downright ridiculous. He doesn’t call out their idiocy that would lead to more problems than it’s worth. He merely pacifies them with the knowledge of the Wizarding community and that Sparks aren’t myths.

Peter didn’t make them cower down to him, but he notices that Stiles would sometimes act a touch unhinge and make it seem like he is the only one tethering him to sanity. He finds it entertaining—especially when Alphas start to look at him with wide panicked eyes and a silent plea to stop Stiles from terrorizing them. It’s a power move Stiles is taking for him. His darling boy is so sweet.

It’s night time and his pack apparated to another territory to meet the pack they are reaffirming their treaties with. They are joined by two other Alphas along with their Left Hand, Right Hand, and emissary. He proudly introduces his pack, with the addition of Isaac.

The talk went well and he has three more packs joining them in their endeavor. They are now gathering at the opening of the forest, tables were set and food was laid for everyone. The Alphas dine together, while the rest of their pack mingle with each other. Now and then, Peter would let his eyes roam to see what his pack are doing.

A hand on his had him turning back to the table. Alpha Reba of the Fridmann pack didn’t take her hand away after gaining his attention. He glanced at the hand and back at her face then raised an inquiring eyebrow at her.

“It’s impressive what you’re trying to achieve.” She said with an air of flirtation.

Peter tilted his head to the side. Fridman Pack is a newly formed pack, they need to form alliances left and right to secure their safety. With Reba’s forwardness, he doesn’t know if she’s naïve or stupid.

He moved his hand away from hers. “I’m sure if given the opportunity, other Alphas would do the same.”

Howie snorted, the Alpha of the Reech Pack which had a treaty with the Hale pack for years. “Humble doesn’t suit you, Peter.”

“You wound me.” He placed a hand over his heart in mock pain.

Rob, Alpha of the Salle Pack, join in the conversation. “Does your entire pack join you once you reach the territory of the pack you’re creating treaties with?”

“Only those who want to meet them,” Peter answered. “The Packs that had ties with mine for years don’t demand to see them—well, not all of them. The Ward pack was the only one that did. It was understandable and it seems that Alpha Ancy is also helping in spreading the word of creating a council. So, there haven’t been any issues. Plus, Stiles and Newt are fine with transporting the rest of the pack if need be.”

“Has he always been like that?” Howie asked.

Peter fought down a smile. “Like what?”

“Intense,” Howie said pointedly.

“Is he?” Peter faked ignorance.

Rob nodded. “Definitely intense.”

Reba snorted. “He’s a teenager.”

“He’s no ordinary teen,” Howie added. “He could pretty much kill us if he wants to.”

“Stiles wouldn’t do that,” Peter said—he got a look from Howie that can be interpreted as he’s being delusional. “Well, he wouldn’t as long as no one harms the pack.” From his table, he saw Stiles made an arching movement with his hand and butterflies flutter around the kids that have been bothering him and Newt since they proved they’re magical. “See, he’s harmless.”

“You’re whipped,” Howie said to him.

“What?” Reba’s confused expression made Peter smile. To others, it would seem like it was Howie’s words were the reason.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Alpha Reba.” Peter faked misunderstanding her exclamation. “I won’t do anything inappropriate towards Stiles until he reaches the legal age. As you’ve said, he’s a teenager. We will have a long courtship.”

“You’re courting him?” Oh, her reaction is just delicious.

“Only the proper things for Stiles.” Peter proclaimed. He can see that Rob is buying his bullshit, while Reba is stuck in disbelief. Howie is starting to be amused just as much as him.

He took their silence as his cue to leave. He got up from his chair after finishing his drink. He left them with a parting smile as he went on to approach Stiles. He weaved through the crowd until he is standing behind the Spark.

“Are you being a creeper again, Peter?” Stiles didn’t bother turning around.

“And, you’ve been scheming, darling.” He reached out to Stiles and placed a hand on the teen’s waist to pull him close. Stiles let himself be pulled, even going further as to leaning back against Peter’s body. The lightness of Stiles light up his nerves. He ducked his head down to take in his darling’s sweet scent.

“What makes you say that?” Stiles playfully asked.

Peter rested his lips just above the point of pulse on Stiles’ neck. “The disturbed persona you front whenever we meet with packs.” He said the words quietly, just shared between the two of them and no one else. The smell of arousal is becoming potent in the air. He is certain that the werewolves around them can tell it’s coming from Stiles.

His Spark turned to face him, wearing a smile sharper than he usually wears whenever they are at the safety of their territory in Beacon Hills. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alpha.” Stiles wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck, pulling their bodies closer to each other—faces just centimeters apart. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the bitch’s hand on yours.”

Peter scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Stiles’s narrowed his eyes at Peter. “How would you feel if someone touched me with the clear intention of flirting?” Peter growled and Stiles had the nerve to smile at that. “That’s what I thought.”

“Tommy!” Newt called out. “It’s time to head back.”

“Remember to behave Peter.” Stiles leaned forward—their lips hair width apart. “Then, maybe you’ll be rewarded.” With that, Stiles let go of him and took a step back.

Peter caught himself as he took a step forward to Stiles. “Must you be a tease?”

Stiles merely let out a laugh as he catches up with the rest of the pack.

* * *

It’s been two days since Victoria last contacted Chris. He knows that their last fight was the worse one yet. Secrets that they tried to keep from voicing out were yelled at each other’s faces and he would admit that it wasn’t his finest moment.

He knows that Victoria is a smart woman, still, he can’t help but feel a little worried. Surely she wouldn’t run away with another man. She’d be the talk of the whole hunter community, and if there’s one thing that matters to Victoria besides hunting it would be her reputation. She wouldn’t ruin everything she had worked so hard for.

He’s trying to be patient but all of his patience is starting to run out. His temper is on the steady rise each hour Victoria goes beyond the time they talked about. He half wonders if he would be having the same problems if he would have just been a little bit strict when it comes to her coming and going.

Just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, his phone ring with the screen flashing the name of the person he’d rather not talk to in the next million years. He took in a steadying breath before answering the call. “Hello.”

“Chris.” His Dad’s chastising voice greeted him. “When was the last time you heard from Victoria?”

That question sent alarms blaring inside Chris’ mind, he sat up straighter in his office chair. “Two days ago. Why? Did something come up?”

“Yes, her body.”

“What?”

“She was found dead—along with two other hunters, their bodies were mangled to death. Hers is worse though, her lower body was removed from the upper part.”

That made Chris reel back in his chair. “What killed them?”

“The bodies were mangled, but no body part was missing,” Gerard informed him. “Not only that there was poison also found in their bloodstream—one that is only known in the family branch close to ours. The suspects are limited.”

“Are you saying you think I killed her?” He couldn’t help but sound incredulous.

“Of course, not.” Gerard scoffed at him. “I know you won’t do anything that would jeopardize your made-up happy family life.” Chris’s hand tighten around his phone upon hearing Gerard’s usual mocking tone. “You don’t have what it takes to kill her no matter how much she fucks you over.”

He tried his best to shrug Gerard’s words off. “Who do you think killed her?”

“Who do you think would benefit from Victoria’s death?”

Chris let out a heavy breath. “You can’t let Kate be the next Matriarch.” He tried to reason. “She doesn’t care about the code.”

“Chris, when will you realize that you’re the only one in our family who cares about the damn code?”

He had long realized that he’s just hoping—for what? Thinking about all the lives that will perish at the hands of his father and sister, he feels sick to his stomach. But, what can he do? Nothing, he told himself. “Fix up Victoria’s body and send it to Beacon Hills. I’ll tell Allison that Victoria was hiking after meeting with some of her business partners and got attacked by a wild animal.”

“I’ll tell Kate to visit for the funeral.” The bastard even sounded smug.

“Don’t bother.” He didn’t bother with a goodbye as he ended the call.

Chris runs a hand over his face as he sighs. He sat in quiet contemplation. He is now a widower. It is unkind to think that he doesn’t feel any different. Still, he doesn’t. Well, not completely different—just…lighter.

So, maybe what he thinks and feels is more than unkind. Can anybody blame him if his marriage to Victoria made him feel like a caged man slowly drowning in misery because of his wife’s infidelity and defiance? The only positive thing that he got out of his marriage with the woman is Allison, and it’s the only reason why he doesn’t completely regret marrying her.

Looking at the clock, he saw that Allison is just about to arrive with Newt in tow. He decided to head to the living room, and as if on cue, their front door opened with Allison’s voice laughter all over the house. Newt has a confused expression on his face that dissipated upon seeing him—lips lifting on the corners to greet Chris with a small smile.

He shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful Newt is with the news of his wife’s death hanging over his head to be delivered to his daughter.

“Allison.” He called out to his daughter gravely. “I need to tell you something—it’s about your mother.”

He saw her daughter rolled her eyes even when she tried to hide it from him by turning away. “Is she extending her trip?” She sounded nonchalant about it. In fact, during the last month, Allison seemed to be growing distant from her mother and just a bit angry. Though, his daughter isn’t showing it outright.

“I’ll…come back next time.” Newt attempted to excuse himself but was stopped by Allison.

“We have a test this Friday.” Allison reminded him. “You need to study. I’m sure it’s nothing important—just Mom and her trips.” There’s a certain inflection in the word ‘trips’ when Allison said it. Chris feels like he should have understood the double entendre.

“It’s…serious, Allison.” He said.

“It’s still Wednesday,” Newt said to Allison. “We have time. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Allison let out a put upon sigh. “Okay, sorry for making you drive all the way here for nothing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He patted Allison on the shoulder before turning to Chris. “See you around, Mr. Argent.”

They both watch Newt walk out of the door. Chris didn’t say anything until he heard the telltale sign of an engine revving and a car driving away. “Your mother went on a hike after meeting some client for her business. She was with two other friends and…” Chris took in a deep breath. “…and they were attacked by a wild animal.”

Allison’s eyes widen at that, her hands slowly rising to her mouth to cover up her gaping expression. “Is she…is she okay?”

“She’s…she passed away.”

He watched as Allison’s knees weaken under her and make her sat down on the sofa. Chris approached her, sitting next to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Shock subside giving way to tears and an expression on Allison’s face that Chris can’t quite understand.

“Was she with…” Allison hesitated but she took in a fortifying breath. “Was she with her boyfriend?”

What? Chris voiced out the question in his mind.

“I know.” Allison simply said like it should have been obvious to Chris.

He could only swallow hard. Chris supposes he failed in giving Allison the wholesome family life he wanted. “I never tried finding who her…paramour was.”

Allison was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Is it terrible that I feel relieved?” She let out a bitter huff of a laugh. “I love her, but she didn’t love you. You won’t be fighting with her anymore, she wouldn’t constantly lie to both of us, she would stop looking at me expecting me to be better—better in a way she deems, anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” It seemed to be the right to say.

“What for?” Allison asked him. “I know you tried, Dad, to cover it all up for me. I’m relieved that you wouldn’t have to anymore and I feel terrible that I feel that way because she’s my Mom, but she—she made it difficult to continue loving her.” She sniffled and blinked away the tears threatening to fall.

“It’s okay to feel relieved.” He told her even when he’s not so certain himself, then confessed. “I…I feel relieved, too.” Allison didn’t stare at him with judgmental eyes just understanding, she laid her head on his shoulder and they sat in silence for a while.

* * *

Allison shared the news of her mother’s demise and she didn’t exactly react the way they were expecting. Well, she didn’t react the way Stiles was expecting. She was grief-stricken back then, now there’s a sense of shame that’s slowly being washed away. Stiles threw a meaningful look at Newt, they can’t afford to be blindsided by Allison’s unpredictability or genetically passed mental instability.

Frypan was quick to hug her, while the rest of them stood just a little closer to her to pat her on the shoulder or whisper words of support. Being her first friend in Beacon Hills, Stiles can see that it didn’t bother Fry when Allison hugged Newt just a little tighter than him. “What happened?”

“Dad said that she went hiking with some clients she had, and they were attacked by a wild animal,” Allison said to them after wiping her nose.

“Animal attack?” Newt sounded baffled. Stiles thought that he has a future in Hollywood if the whole wizard thing doesn’t work out for him.

Allison simply nodded. “The funeral’s this Saturday. It will be a small gathering.” She let go of Newt and wrapped her arms around herself. “I wanted you guys to be there but Dad wasn’t sure. Mom’s family will be there, and some of her friends—I don’t really know them.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Newt told her. “And, I’ll talk to your Dad. We’ll figure something out. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if I’d be the only one to go. You shouldn’t be…facing this on your own right now.” That’s what got Allison sobbing quietly as they safely surround her from prying eyes. Newt made the appropriate hushing sounds and wiped her tears with his own hands. “You know what, I’ll drive you home now.”

“We still have class.” Allison reminded him.

“I’m sure the teachers would understand.” Newt glanced at Stiles. “Can you inform them and tell them I drove Allison home?”

“Sure, anything.” Stiles was quick to say.

“The rest of you should take notes in classes you share with her, that way she won’t have a hard time catching up.”

“I’m fine.” Allison tried to insist.

Newt gave her a stern look. “Allison, you’re not—and it’s understandable. You need time to grieve, the rest can bloody wait until you are ready.” Allison was staring at Newt with mixed adoration and pain. “Now, come on.” They bid the rest a quiet good-bye before heading out.

With Isaac in their presence, they can’t openly talk about Victoria’s death in a context that they needed to. So, they went on their way—a little down from Allison’s news, but not different from most of their days. Stiles knows that Newt will keep them informed of the Argent’s psyche.

After school, they head to the Gladers’ place with Isaac. It has been a routine since the school started but now Isaac is added to their numbers. Gally pulled at Isaac’s hand and took the initiative to seclude them inside his room. While he, Minho, and Fry wouldn’t be discussing anything of importance, it made them feel a little lighter knowing they can at least lower their guard without Isaac’s eyes observing them.

The three of them separated their ways. Frypan headed to the kitchen, Minho stayed in the living room and turned on the television, while Stiles went to the garage. He sat down on a mustard-colored sofa with a huff after throwing his bag on it—unsure what to do or feel.

They killed Victoria. It’s a ‘they’ because even if Minho was the one who pulled the trigger and desecrated her body, he and Newt were present. Hell, they were the ones that planned the whole she-bang.

At the time they were doing the deed, Stiles was focused on getting everything correct and not being linked to the crime. Now that he has the time to think about it, his thought is—it’s not messed up, far from it. It is resigned.

Resigned to the idea of death, murder, and deceit. He was never fighting it from the start but the act turned it real. He is passed contemplation. He is now enacting every unsavory plan they have cooked up.

Stiles realized that being ready to do everything necessary feels different from having done it.

He let out a sigh. He had done worse, this shouldn’t bother him anymore but it does. No matter how far down he tries to bury his conscience it still lingers irritatingly at the back of his heart. He needs to box it up and tape it shut. There’s no room—no use for it.

Stiles reached out for his backpack and pulled out a warded notebook. To the non-magical eyes, if they open it, they would see that it’s empty. To him and Newt, it has the list of the things and people they need to anticipate, their plans, and people they will need to eliminate.

He opened it to the page where he can see Victoria’s name with a circle to tick off at the side. From the bag’s zip pocket, he got a pen. He ticked off Victoria’s name with an ‘x’.

If he sniffled a bit and cleared his throat to stop himself from crying, there’s no one else to know.

From his jeans, he pulled out his phone. He did a quick scroll on his messages and found Peter’s name. He sent a quick text. ‘Victoria’s taken care of. No news if the rest of the Argents would be coming for the funeral.’ He sent that then remembered what Newt’s trying to do, then added. ‘Newt’s trying to get an inside in the funeral.’

Instead of a text that he thought he’d be receiving, his phone ring. The screen showed Peter’s name. Stiles didn’t know why, but he hesitated to answer the call.

‘How are you feeling?’ Peter’s serious tone made Stiles want to curl onto himself.

“I’m…” He can’t say he’s fine. Peter would be able to tell it’s a lie. “…trying to figure it out and settle to one emotion that isn’t so fucking dreary.”

‘That will take some time.’ Peter said to him with a layer of warmth.

“Which I both don’t and do have the luxury of.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead. There are so many things that need to be done. He doesn’t have the time for emotional struggles—especially of morality. Besides, he’s beyond that now. “How’s the unification of packs?”

‘Better than expected.’ Peter answered, not probing any longer. ‘Some packs from the southern continent of America wants to meet with me, too. The Ward pack are really doing their part. I think we’d be done with this before the six months period you’ve allotted for it.’

“That’s good to hear.” The sound of the garage entrance opening got Stiles’s attention. He turned toward it with the phone still pressed in his ears.

It showed Newt with a giddy smile on his face. “I got my first kiss!”

Stiles’s brows hiked up to his hairline. “Er…congratulations.”

From inside the house, they both hear hurried footsteps. Minho yanked open the door, he tripped and fell flat on the floor. He was followed by Frypan, and Gally, fortunately, caught himself before falling, too. Even with his face down, Minho was still the first one to recover. “Tell us!”

Newt’s face started turning red. It seems he is realizing the power of the words he just yelled at the top of his lungs.

‘Stiles?’ Peter called out to him from the other end of the phone.

“I’m going to text you later,” Stiles told him. “Newt just got his first kiss and the whole house is losing their collective klunks.”

‘Ah, another teenage milestone.’ Peter’s amusement was apparent in his voice. ‘Give him my congratulations as well.’ With that, they ended the call.

Stiles looked at Newt expectantly, and his friend had the gall to look abashed.

* * *

What she hates most is remembering. It takes over her every sense. It clogs her nose and burns her tongue. It heats her skin and blinds her eyes. It lets her have a glimpse of her uncle—the one that welcomed the pain to save her.

Blue eyes wide in fear and worry, lips moving to utter the one-word command that saved her; run. So, Cora ran. She ran because she knew her life depended on it. With bonds breaking inside of her, she dare not howl and give herself away. She whimpered then she ran some more. She ran and ran and ran—till her surrounding isn’t familiar anymore, till her exhaustion took over her, till there’s no more bond to break.

She was picked up by a couple of werewolves journeying in Colombia. She was welcomed in their journey back to their territory in a small town in Venezuela and was soon welcomed in their pack. She soon learned that the pack that welcomed her was the Alfaro Pack.

Cora found out that Arlo—the one leading the journey in Colombia was the Left hand of the Alfaro pack. She was presented to the Alpha—Javier, and she shared with them what happened to her pack. Her story was confirmed when news of the Hale fire spread throughout the werewolf community.

She was reluctant to join the Alfaro pack at first. She felt guilt over what happened to her family and pack—even when they’re gone, she still felt like she’s betraying them by joining another pack. She was told that what she feels is the guilt of surviving.

Her nights used to be filled with nightmares collected from the memories from the fire. The trauma followed her during the day. A sudden change of the scent in the air can have her spiraling into panic. A spark of light can have her running away. Esmeralda, the Right hand of the pack, helped her in dealing with her trauma and helping her find a sense of control again in her life.

It took years before Cora accepted the fact that she’s all there is left of the once-proud Hale pack. She struggles for that acceptance. She wrestled with it until the denial turned into anger, and anger turned into a sadness that led to sadness making way for the path to acceptance.

Cora wouldn’t say she’s the poster girl for mental health. She’s far from it, to be honest. She’s too hard-headed and she pushes for independence too much. She’s still trying to work on it—especially her temper which she thinks is an inherited thing, from what little she can remember of her childhood.

She’s trying to find her inner peace, stopping herself from tearing up her chemistry homework, when she was called by Maya and told her that she’s being summoned to the big house. She raises an eyebrow at that, it’s been a while since she’s been called in the big house. Cora tried to recall if she did anything that would warrant being called by the leaders of the pack—she came out with none.

She headed towards the meeting place at a sedated pace, still trying to figure out what would be the reason for it. A while back, she would be in near panic and certain that she is being called to be kicked out of the pack. Now that she’s confident in her place in the pack, she stomps on her doubt and recalls the words Esmeralda had told her long ago.

Cora entered the big house and headed for the meeting hall. The pack leaders were seated at a round table with the Alpha in between his Left and Right hand. Javier smiled at her reassuringly as he gestured for her to sit down. Cora obeyed the silent instruction and tried not to fidget under their gazes.

‘How have you been, Cora?’ Javier asked her in their native tongue.

‘I’ve been doing just fine.’ She answered in the same tongue. She had trouble learning their language first, but since she’s surrounded by it, she learned over time.

‘That’s good to hear.’

Javier was playing with a folded paper as he speaks. Cora took in his pause as a sign that he is considering his next words carefully. Javier unfolded the paper that he’s holding, stared at it for a few seconds before looking back at her.

‘There’s an Alpha traveling around America—meeting up with different packs to reaffirm their treaties or create a new one.’ Javier started. ‘This Alpha is urging different packs to join in the council they are creating too—let’s say bring forth Hunters who had harm packs and serve them punishment. To say that a lot of packs are interested would be an understatement. Words are spreading, not only in America but other continents as well as countries. They at least want to hear the Alpha out.’

Cora’s brows furrowed at that. It’s the kind of information that no simple pack member should know about. Taking into consideration her age and inexperience, she doesn’t understand why Javier is telling her all about this. ‘Are you looking for a translator if you want to meet with the Alpha?’

Arlo smiled at her, the same way he does whenever he thinks she said something funny. ‘That would be helpful.’ He wasn’t mocking—more like, indulgent.

‘There’s more.’ Esmeralda said.

She tilted her head to the side and waited for Javier to continue. ‘This is an invitation forwarded by a Pack we have an alliance within America—it came from the Ward pack. We were sent a copy because the Alpha of the pack we have an alliance with the thought that the name of the Traveling Alpha was familiar.’

Javier pushed the paper towards Cora’s direction. She stared at them for a moment before picking up the paper and reading its content. A name she never thought she’d ever see was there—soft cursive ‘P’ and proud standing ‘H’, with each small letters carrying a level of strength, not many possess.

“Uncle Peter.” She didn’t notice her language change. She looked up. “How?” Remembering herself, she asked again. ‘How?’

‘From what we have gathered, Alpha Hale survived the fire but took six years before he recovered from his injury.’ Javier explained. ‘The lack of pack bonds made it difficult for him, but he managed to heal and secure an Alpha Spark. He is starting the Hale pack again—we’re told that he has three betas and two emissaries. He’s been going around, as I’ve mentioned earlier, he has a certain goal in mind.’

‘Are you going to meet with him?’ She asked, with a bit of desperation in her voice. Cora never dared dream, but the thought that she’s not the only Hale alive got her hoping—it has her longing.

Esmeralda spoke up. ‘It is only wise that we do. If the Americans would create their council, sooner or later the rest of the countries would do the same. Once each country has their council, the next step would be a global scale union. That would aid each pack not only in fighting wild supernatural creatures but also Hunters.’

‘That…seems so farfetched.’ She muttered weakly.

‘A lot of things seem so impossible at the beginning.’ Javier said. ‘Though this one, from the number of packs showing their interest, doesn’t. Your Uncle has a vision, one that everyone is willing to turn into reality.’

‘I can come with you, right?’ She asked outright—there’s no point in beating around the bush. ‘It’s why you called me. You’re taking me with you when you meet with him.’ She said it with confidence.

‘That’s right.’ Arlo nodded at her.

‘You are still part of this pack—you will always be a part of this pack, but we understand the need to be with family.’ Javier said to her in a soft tone.

‘Thank you.’ She held the paper close to her chest. ‘This means…I thought I was the only Hale left.’ She can feel her tears threatening to spill. She blinked it away. ‘Thank you.’

‘Of course, child.’ Javier’s expression was one of understanding. ‘Go and pack a bag. We’ll leave tonight.’

Cora nodded and got up from her seat. She remembered that she’s still holding the paper. She let go of it reluctantly, trying to comfort herself with the thought that she’s going to see her Uncle again.

Countries, regions, and states away from her—another two Hales received the news of Peter’s cause, and are deciding if they should head to Beacon Hills. One was happy that his Uncle is alive, the other thinking that her birthright is being taken away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of making a trailer for this story. It just popped out of my head. I'm already collecting scenes that I think would go well together. So, yeah--tell me what you guys think.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses, kills, and skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to everyone! I hope everyone will still have a fun time despite what we're facing this year. I wish everyone happiness, good health, and motivation. Thank you for taking the time to read this story. I hope you are having as much fun as I am. This just started as a crazy idea that wouldn't leave me be--forcing itself to be written. In all honesty, I let the muse guide me. I let them be the ones to tell me what to write, so it is a journey for me, too.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I do proofread. Please, pardon the mistakes that get past me, On to the story...

The car ride was a quiet affair, not that Newt expected anything different. He let Allison grapple with guilt and shame, as he pretended that the emotion he’s seeing on her is grief. It’s worrying how her mind works, but each person is different. They also cope differently.

Most children, when they find out that one of their parents are not happy in their marriage, would blame themselves. Sometimes they will even act out after knowing that one has been having an affair. Allison is not the same—she placed the blame on Victoria, from the woman’s infidelity to her father’s lonely life. It’s not the wrong way to think of things, but it says a lot about Allison’s psyche.

Newt is on the fence if it is a good reaction or a bad one. It just goes to show that they shouldn’t expect Allison to think and feel the same way the majority does. He plans on warning Frypan about this and he will remain vigilant around her.

They arrived at the Argent’s residence and found out that Chris isn’t home. He suggested to Allison that she should wash up and head to her room to lay her head down. She urged him to come with her to her room.

Though he knows that she only wants to cuddle for comfort, he acted all flustered. Allison rolled her eyes at him and made her intentions clear. He said to her that he will only join her if she promises they would keep the door of her room open. She agreed readily.

Newt figured that he would make them hot chocolate as she showers. He rummaged through their kitchen, using what he learned from his Legilimency to be able to find what he needed inside the kitchen. After making their drinks, he headed up the stairs and to Allison’s room. She gave him an appreciative smile as he handed her the drink. They settle on her bed, careful not to spill.

He placed his drink on the top of the bedside drawer. “Want to talk about it?”

Allison thought about it before answering. “My Mom wasn’t faithful to my Dad.”

That got Newt pausing. “What?”

“She’s been having an affair.” Allison rephrased it. “I found out a week before the formal.”

“I thought that they were…in a loving marriage.” Newt lied. “They seem so…perfect together.”

Allison gave an ugly snort. “They wanted everyone—including me, to think they have this picture-perfect marriage, but all they do is argue. My Dad tried his hardest to hide it from me, but living inside the same house isn’t conducive for secrets.”

“I can only imagine.” He reached out for her drink and placed it next to his.

He opened his arms for her, and Allison didn’t hesitate in seeking comfort in his embrace. He placed their bodies in a comfortable position. Easy for Allison to fall asleep in and for him to get away once Chris is back from wherever he is.

“Still, they both love you.” He added despite knowing the truth.

Allison’s voice came out as a croak. “Mom thought that I was too sheltered—she doesn’t believe that I could do anything.” Newt tightens his hold around Allison, trying to make it seem he is grounding her. In a way, he is. “Dad told her that I am capable.”

“And, you are.” Newt was quick to second Chris’s assessment of his daughter. “You can do whatever you set your mind to, Allison.” He didn’t need to use his magic to know that his words caused Allison to feel relieved. He took note of it, too. It is a sign that he is gaining influence over the girl.

Newt let her cry silently until she exhausted herself enough that she fell asleep. He let themselves be caught in bed by Chris. The Argent patriarch’s eyes shone betrayal, but before he could voice anything out, Newt held up a finger on his lips—gesturing for Chris to keep quiet.

He carefully laid Allison on the bed and tucked her in. He was mindful of the mugs they used, he picked it up on his way out of the room. Chris was by the door, arms crossed, and eyes trained at him waiting for an explanation.

“Close the door,” Newt whispered to Chris. This is an opportunity he is not going to waste. “Let’s talk in the kitchen. I need to clean my mess.” Chris stared at him for a moment before acquiescing to his silent demand to follow.

Newt headed straight to the sink, he placed the mugs there then fired up the stove once again. He reheated the hot chocolate on the pot and poured one for Chris. He placed it in front of the man as he stood by the counter. Chris sat down on one of the stools and nursed the drink between his hands, still waiting.

“She was…having a difficult day.” Newt started. “Brokedown when she told us about Mrs. Argent. I decided to drive her home. I had Stiles alert the teachers the reason why.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry for your loss. Your wife was a kind woman.” Newt had never uttered a bigger lie in his life.

“Are you sure that’s the only reason why you’re in bed with my daughter?” Chris’s tone was accusing.

Newt stared at him and saw what it was Chris was feeling—jealousy. “I’ll never push anyone to cheat nor will I ever cheat on someone.” He let his tone harden at that. “Yes, high school romance may not last, but I respect what Allison and Fry have.”

“I’m…sorry.” Chris sighed. “It’s been a day. Thank you for driving Allison, and being there for her.”

“Understandable. It’s a hard time for the two of you.” Newt said. “Another reason why I’m here is that Allison voiced out the need to have a friend present at the funeral. She said that you thought it would be inappropriate, and I understand why you think so—but Allison needs someone. I told her I’d talk to you about letting at least myself attend.” He let out a breath. “I won’t push if you will stick to what you think is right.”

Chris rested his forehead on his palms for a moment, internally debating what he should do. He looked up with a decision made. “I’ll call to make adjustments to accommodate you in the funeral.”

“Thank you.” He started stacking the utensils he used in making the hot chocolate inside the sink. He turned the faucet on and grabbed the sponge.

“Let me do that.” Chris protested as he stood up next to Newt.

“It’s my mess,” Newt told him pointedly. “And, you just got home. Sit down, enjoy your drink.”

“You’re a guest.”

Newt scoffed at that. “I am here more than once a week. We’re past that kind of formality.”

He continued washing the dishes, humming a bit between his lips. Instead of going back to his seat, Chris stayed standing next to him. Newt pretended not to notice the staring. This is the closest one of Chris’s dreams turned into a reality. He has no doubt the man is savoring it.

He finished up and made a move to grab a dishtowel. Chris got in his way and leaned close to him. Newt looked into his eyes, saw what he was thinking before feeling it.

Chris kissed him—close-mouthed at first, but as Newt reciprocated it was taken into new heights. The older man pressed his tongue on Newt’s lips that caused him to gasp. This was taken as an invitation to delve further and deeper. Newt braced himself by holding on to Chris's shirt. He tried to answer each swipe and each twirl of Chris’s tongue but his inexperience was showing.

He heard a moan—from who he doesn’t know and he is far from caring because he is being kissed by Chris Argent. A hand on Newt’s nape got him taking a step closer which he never thought was possible with how closely pressed they are at each other. An arm snaked around his small waist, Newt felt the entirety of Chris's body against his.

A growl, close enough to be a werewolf’s, got Newt startling. It was enough to break the kiss. He opened his eyes and saw Chris’s awed expression. He needs to be careful what he’s going to do next. It’s a make or break moment.

Newt took a step back—Chris’s eyes were widening, realization settling in.

Newt let go of his hold on Chris’s shirt—Chris tried to stop him.

Newt licked his lips and let it hang open for a moment—Chris followed the action and looked at him with painstakingly longing.

“Newt—“

He stopped Chris from saying anything else. “You’re grieving, you needed comfort.” His voice left no room for argument. “I’m happy that for a moment I managed to give you that.” He let his tone soften by the end. “I’m here—for Allison and you.”

Chris scoffed—a bit nasty and demeaning. “What? You’ll let me fuck you to comfort me?”

“Will that make you feel better?” He didn’t let his tone harden nor rise. Newt didn’t let their eyes break contact.

“No,” Chris answered after a moment of silence.

“I guessed as much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Newt placed a hand on Chris's bearded cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with needing someone. Just remember, next time you need physical comfort, sex isn’t a substitute for love. Also, be careful, not many would be as understanding or as kind.” He let his hand fall to his side. “I’ll see myself out.”

Newt didn’t wait for Chris’s reply. He headed straight to the living room, picked up his bag and jacket. He was out the door in no time and inside his car. Driving away, he took the moment to think about how he’s going to proceed with the development in mind.

He needs to be able to preserve his friendship with Allison and have her accept him as her father’s romantic interest. The kiss, while helps in closing the gap between him and Chris, complicates things with Allison. They were trying to make it seem like they are being completely honest with her. Keeping the kiss from her till it is revealed in an opportune moment won’t do.

The kiss—Newt couldn’t help but feel giddy at the progress that he’s been making. Not only that, it was his first kiss. The very first kiss.

He parked the car and opened the garage entrance. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone, so seeing Tommy there with his phone in hand was a pleasant surprise. “I got my first kiss!” The sounds of footsteps barreling towards the garage clued Newt in that he may have made that announcement a little too loud.

* * *

Minho found it hilariously entertaining as Thomas coax the tale of Newt’s kiss from the wizard teen himself. They all saw a new side to Newt—the sputtering, stuttering side that they never knew existed. Fry could only guess that it’s a part of Newt that was buried when he entered the Maze.

Being the way he is, he just couldn’t stop himself from teasing Newt. There were only ever so few moments he could. This is the prime moment and Minho wouldn’t let it go to waste. The stinging hex flung his way was totally worth seeing Newt’s red blotchy face.

“Let me live through every single one of you vicariously.” He said as he rubs his shoulder where the hex landed. “It’s not like I’ll be making out with someone anytime soon.”

“Hey, you never know.” Thomas pointed at him. “Danny has been eyeing your ass.”

Gally’s nose twitched at that. “Every boy and girl in Beacon Hills High has been eyeing his chucking ass. It’s like the whole school body is deprived.”

“You got to admit, it’s a fine ass,” Thomas added with a wiggling of his brows.

Minho smiled at him. “Aw, Thomas, that means a lot but I don’t want Peter to murder me.”

“I’ll protect you from the Big Bad.”

“Shucks.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Thomas. “I’d rather you give me the juicy bits of your encounters, though. The last time, the whole place stunk of sexual tension it was a miracle the werewolves surrounding you didn’t start humping each other.” That got the rest of the Gladers snickering at Thomas’s expense.

“On a more serious note though, how am I supposed to handle Allison?” Newt asked. “I should be fostering the image of an honest friend towards her, and keeping this from her is the opposite of honest.”

“Simple,” Thomas said. “Act shifty around her and Chris during the funeral—she’s an observant enough person, she’ll notice it. Once she asks, look guilty enough and sorry enough but tell her that it isn’t only your secret to share. That will encourage her enough to ask Chris.”

“What makes you so sure she’s going to ask Chris and not just leave it be?” Frypan asked.

“From what Newt has told us about what Allison heard from Victoria, she’d want to test Chris’s faith in her,” Thomas answered. “And since Chris loves her, he’d tell her the truth.”

“Her reaction once she finds out will confirm if we have cemented enough level of influence in her,” Newt added then sighed. “Isn’t it too early to test this?”

“Maybe,” Thomas said with a shrug. “We’ll just have to see.” None of the Gladers liked that uncertainty. “Still, we can take extra precautions.” Thomas shifted his gaze to Frypan. “You’re going to back Newt up with this one, but not blatantly.”

Thomas taught Fry the art of subtlety which Minho didn’t know was a subject matter that needed to be discussed between them. Then again, Frypan’s one of the good ones. The werewolf has no malicious bone in his body. Well, that was before they were bitten. He wonders if the other two had become eerily aware of their subconscious the same way he is.

Minho knows that the man in him is willing to get his hands bloodied if needed. The beast in him would relish any opportunity that will lead him to tear bodies apart. Becoming aware of the fact—of how savage he can be, was a shock to his core. But there is nothing else he can do about it other than accept it and try to understand it.

He’s also starting to understand why his father tried so hard to become one with his pack. Werewolves are just social creatures, they want to belong. While he knows he belongs in the pack, Minho is also starting to feel the want to belong to someone. It reminded him of a song that hasn’t been released yet.

Man, being in the past sucks for the fact that he knows it’ll be a few years still till he hears some of his favorite songs. The thought had him furrowing his brows a bit. Newt had permitted them to do whatever. They could pretty much ‘Hot Tub Time Machine’ the whole thing.

“Oh, shit.” He muttered without thinking. Everyone turned their eyes on him. Minho stared at Thomas directly in his eyes, knowing that if there’s anyone who would understand it would be him. “Hot Tub Time Machine.”

“What?” Newt asked.

Thomas’s eyes widen a fraction, he was quiet for a minute before he burst out a laughter. Frypan looks mildly concerned by the reaction. Gally was trying to be patient to hear an explanation.

“Okay, so, while you guys were talking about how to further influence the Argent Princess—I was thinking.” He started. “Like; hey, this situation reminds me of that one song but it hasn’t been released yet.”

“Hot Tub Time Machine.” Frypan echoed. It tells Minho that he and Thomas weren’t the only ones who saw the movie.

“It was released last year if I remember correctly. Why are we repeating the title of the movie?” Gally said and who would have thought that he’d seen the movie, too?

“We don’t really need the money.” Thomas pointed out after recovering from laughing his ass off. They are being compensated by the Wizarding community for their quote and unquote services. “Or the fame.”

“Don’t tell me—“Gally was shocked enough that he was unable to finish his sentence. “Are you serious?” He asked Minho instead. “How did your mind went from deceiving Allison to Hot Tub Time Machine?”

He shrugged at Gally’s question but has a comeback for what Thomas said. “We don’t need money or fame, but it’s nice to fuck with people.” Minho had also realized that even his wolf is a little shit—much more than himself, to be honest. “Plus, I miss the songs I know. It would be weird if I sing it out loud and people ask me who sang it then come up with nothing.”

“Okay.” Newt piped up. “Wizard here, would anyone be kind enough to clue me in?”

“I’m downloading the movie,” Thomas announced. “We’re having a movie night.”

Minho turned to Newt. “Hey, can I have some of my money? I’m going to buy a violin.”

“Do you even know how to play the violin?” Newt asked but he was already reaching for his wallet.

“I have trained in classical music since I was five.” Minho was getting judgmental stares from Gally and Frypan. He felt a little defensive. “Asian upbringing—I won’t bring dishonor to the cows.”

“What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?” Newt handed him their ATM card.

Thomas got up from his seat. “You’ll understand later.”

Minho clasped the card in his hand. “Whose car can I borrow?” Gally threw his keys at him. “Thanks!” He got up on his feet and raced to the car. Thomas did say something about doing things just for themselves, maybe this will make him feel just a tad bit better.

* * *

Allison was relieved her father let Newt attend the funeral of her mother. She knew that it would seem rude, but she couldn’t face the family of her Mom. She’s afraid of her true feelings to show. Most had mistaken her relationship with Newt for something else. She honestly could care less about what they think, she’s too preoccupied observing the interaction between Newt and her Dad.

The two were polite to each other, they always were, but this time it seems they are too polite. While her Dad aimed to offend Newt by questioning his intention at the start of their friendship, it’s like her Dad is now walking on eggshells around her friend. Newt on the other hand avoids looking at her Dad directly, he kept shifting his weight when they stood in front of each other. To say that the scene was baffling is an understatement.

When the last of the guests left, giving their well-wishes and farewell to her Dad, she cornered Newt and asked him about the change. The male teen blushed, stuttered an apology but told her—with a sense of finality, that it’s not only his secret to tell. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he apologized again for keeping something from her. He even assured her that he didn’t want to keep anything from her, but as he had mentioned that it is not only about him.

Newt left that night, farewell to her Dad a bit stilted but still well-meaning and genuine. She thought for a moment if she should hound her Dad the moment the door closed but thought better of it. It’s been a long day. It hasn’t been easy dealing with people and she can see her Dad’s weariness.

It’s been weeks since she had that conversation with Newt. When he went over for their weekly study session, her Dad didn’t bother leaving his office to check on them. Newt was acting equally skittish inside their home—which he never was even at the start of their friendship. She was tempted to confront her Dad that night, but she doesn’t know how she would open the topic.

As the weekend drew near, Frypan asked her out on a date. She gladly accepted it and let everything else inside her mind take a back seat. With everything that happened, she feels like she deserves a little bit of happiness and romance. Both Frypan provided in tons.

They went to the movies and Frypan took her to a fancy coffee shop after for an afternoon snack. They talked about the movie and shared stories of their childhood. Fry’s voice would sometimes turn into a whisper when he’s about to mention something supernatural. She appreciates his honesty—she appreciates everyone’s honesty, it’s why she’s having a hard time dealing with Newt’s sudden secrecy.

“What’s got you frowning?” Fry asked her lightly.

“I’m sorry.” She quickly said. “I just…there’s just—something between Newt and my Dad. I’ve been thinking about it for a week already, I’m trying to respect Newt’s decision to keep quiet about it. I didn’t mean to ruin our date.”

Frypan smiled at her as if she’s being silly. “Date’s not ruined just because you shared what’s been on your mind.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Besides, I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that is bothering you, and I would like to offer support however I can.”

Can Fry just get any more perfect for her? She mentally asked herself. She bit her lower lip, hesitating for a moment. “Newt said that it wasn’t only his secret to tell, so that means it also has something to do with my Dad. I’ve been wanting to talk to him about it, I’m just not sure how I would start the conversation.”

“I’d suggest you start it the way every other conversation starts; with words.” Frypan playfully advised. Allison rolled her eyes at him and that got him chuckling. “Seriously though, from what you’ve shared with me about your Mom’s passing, I can tell that honesty has become very important to you. So, just tell your Dad that you don’t want any secret coming in between the two of you and between your friends. I’m sure he’ll understand that.”

“Thank you.” She sincerely said to him.

“You’re welcome.” Frypan lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on it. “I’m always here for you—we’re here for you, remember that. Just keep an open mind, okay? I know you’re pretty cool-headed, but it wouldn’t be amiss to mind our tempers.”

Allison nodded at his words, taking it to heart. “I’m so lucky I met you guys.” She let out a sigh. “I wouldn’t know how I would have reacted when I found out about Mom without anyone to talk to.” She seriously doubts she would have taken it well. She’s sure that any negative reaction would be a burden to her Dad, and she’s glad that was avoided.

They ended their date on a positive note. Frypan drove her home, walked her to the door, and kissed her on the cheek before heading home. She waved at the car goodbye before heading inside. Allison was surprised that her Dad wasn’t waiting by the door for her.

“How was your date?” Her Dad asked from the kitchen.

“It was great.” She hugged him from the back as he continued with his cooking. “Frypan was a gentleman—he only kissed me on the back of my hand and the cheek.” She added pointedly. “No need to get the guns.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“No grenades either.” Her Dad huffed a laugh at that. Allison stared at him for a moment before biting the bullet. “Dad, we need to talk.”

Her Dad’s expression became serious as he turned to face her. “What about?”

She inhaled deeply. “You and Newt.” Allison saw her Dad’s eyes widen before his expression closed off. For a moment, his jaw clenched and unclenched. There’s no denying that whatever happened between Newt and her Dad was important, perhaps even more than she originally thought.

* * *

Gally listens to Minho and Thomas mess around in the garage—recreating songs that haven’t been released. After watching Hot Tub Time Machine with Newt, he thought that the wizard would have an aneurysm upon realizing that Minho wants to sort of copy what one of the characters did. He was proven wrong when Newt started laughing and told Minho to knock himself out. To which Minho whooped very loud too. God, he questions everyone’s sanity.

He runs his fingers over Isaac’s curls as the other teen sketch something for his art class. Isaac hums between his closed lips, letting Gally know that he appreciates the gesture. He isn’t ever going to point out the increasing frequency of Isaac’s visits. That will only lead to Isaac shying away which he doesn’t want or need.

Gally took a peek at the artwork and saw that Isaac’s drawing the last details. It was a sketch of werewolves, four to be exact, though one was bigger than the rest. The moon hanging overhead, big and full with the werewolves head tilted back and mouths open to a howl.

He can immediately tell that it was recreated from memory. “You’re good at that.” He said the words quietly. He likes their conversation to be just for the two of them, and with other werewolves in the house, he has to take caution on how loud he would speak.

“It’s nothing.” Isaac was always quick in shrugging off a compliment.

“For you, it might be nothing, but it could be everything to someone else.” He leaned down to kiss Isaac on his temple. He’s glad that Isaac doesn’t mind how tactile he is.

“What is it for you?”

“Our memory, our pack, your acceptance, and understanding.” He listed on top of his head. Their eyes met and Gally knew it was time. “It’s been a month since you’ve been part of the pack.”

“Has it?” Isaac’s brows furrowed a bit. “I didn’t notice.”

“I think, it’s time for you to know…certain things about me, and about the pack.” He felt Isaac adjust himself from his leaned back position on the couch.

Placing the sketchbook on the coffee table, Isaac put distance between the two of them to have a serious discussion. “Is this just as life-changing as finding out about werewolves and magic?” There was a teasing lilt in Isaac’s voice, but it wasn’t enough to cover up the nerves in his words.

“You could say that.” Gally unconsciously straightened himself from where he was sitting. An action that he does when he’s about to take command. “Before…we became a pack, I was already a part of one. I was human back then, but a protector nonetheless.” Isaac’s expression was one of confusion, but Gally can see that he’s patient enough to listen to the whole story. “My previous pack was hunted down, and I was—taken. The same happened to Minho and Frypan. I don’t know how Newt was taken, but he was as well.”

He avoided his gaze for a moment, not comfortable showing too much hurt in front of Isaac. It just doesn’t seem right. He’s the protector, he needs to seem strong and capable. “We were put together in a glade surrounded by a maze. We were tested to see if we’ll get out—we were tested in different scenarios and simulations. Experimented on. The reason was to find out what it was in our blood makes us…immune to certain diseases even when we were mere humans.” He looked back up to Isaac and saw horror written on his face. “It took a while but we got out—we got…rescued.”

Isaac reached out to him, clutching at his hand.

Gally couldn’t help but smile at him. He continued the story that Thomas had come up with. “The…government of Newt’s community became aware of the threat, so he was sent here to—unify the supernatural and the magical community. So, beings like us are protected from those who want to hurt and abuse us.” He sighed, the next part, they have talked about in quite a length. They won’t be going back home. Beacon Hills will become home for them from then on. “Since we have—nothing to return to, Newt decided to take us along for the ride.”

“How did Peter became your Alpha?”

“Newt can’t exactly just go around talking to werewolf packs with just us and we weren’t werewolves yet.” He explained. “We needed an Alpha who would help us with our cause, and Peter fitted the criteria—not only was he a part of a respectable werewolf bloodline, he’s knowledgeable in everything supernatural, and his pack was…hunted down.” He paused for a moment. “You must be aware of the Hale fire.”

“Everyone in Beacon Hills was,” Isaac said.

“What I think everyone in Beacon Hills isn’t aware of was that the Hales weren’t an ordinary family,” Gally said to him pointedly.

“They were a pack.” Isaac easily followed the train of thought.

“Peter was the only one inside the house that survived the fire. His niece and nephew run away, afraid that the hunters would go after them.”

“Hunters?” Isaac echoed.

“That’s what they call themselves—those that hunt the supernatural.”

“Well, that’s unoriginal.”

Gally didn’t bother covering up his amused snort. “Anyway, Peter was hospitalized—in a catatonic state for six-years, until Newt and Thomas went and healed him. We offered ourselves to be his pack and found a rogue Alpha to get the Alpha Spark from.”

“How—how is the Alpha Spark transferred?”

“By killing an Alpha, the power will be transferred.” Gally stared at Isaac, waiting for his reaction. He saw Isaac’s Adam’s apple bobbed on his throat, eyes wide at him. “Werewolves and magic—it all seem so…beautiful and fantastical, like a fairytale, but I’m telling you now that that’s not always the case.”

“You’re going to warn me off.” Isaac’s realization bought about sadness in his eyes that Gally never thought he’d see. “Now, you’re going to warn me off—after a month of-of safety and intimacy, you want me to go? You’re horrible!” Isaac ripped his hands from Gally’s and got up on his feet.

Gally was quick to follow him, trying to stop Isaac from pacing. “I am warning you but that doesn’t mean I want you to go.” He forced Isaac to face him. “Why would you ever think I want you to go?”

“Uh…guys?”

Gally didn’t bother turning to face Minho. “It’s just a misunderstanding. Go back to the garage.” A soft clicking of a door closing informed him that Minho returned to Thomas.

“Then, why? What’s with all these?” Isaac vaguely waved his hand in the air.

“You need to know the truth.” Gally inhaled deeply. “It won’t always be simple days. There would be days wherein threats would hang over our heads, and nights would be spent fending off whatever comes our way. It’s not always dancing under the moonlight, there would be blood and violence.”

“I’m not new to blood and violence.”

Gally held Isaac’s face between his palms, steeling himself. “I’ve killed, Isaac, and I will kill—so will the rest of the pack. It’s part of being a protector, it is part of achieving our goal. I need you to know. If you leave me, I’d understand. If you stay, I’d be…I’d be complete, more so than I am without you.”

“Why wait a month?”

“Can you blame me for being scared?”

Isaac stared deeply into his eyes—searching for something Gally doesn’t know. “I’ve always known you would be dangerous. You all had that…air around you. In the sea of people, you know you’re the strongest and it shows.” He took a step towards Gally. “I’m staying.”

Gally let out a breath that he’s been holding since Isaac moved away from him. “Good.” He licked his lips. “That’s good.”

“You don’t seem to be convinced.”

“You ripped your hand from mine, my wolf isn’t exactly rational.” Gally brought his hands down to Isaac’s hips and pulled him close. “If you’re staying—“

“Which I am.”

“You’ll need to learn how to protect yourself. It isn’t only the hunters that pose threats, other supernatural beings, too.”

Isaac snorted. “I don’t exactly have claws, Gally.”

“You could.” Isaac lifted an eyebrow at him. “Have claws, I mean. Peter could turn you, he’d teach you the same way he taught us. Or, I could teach you how to use guns—and other weapons.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to be turned, though I’ve always thought that learning how to shoot a gun would be cool.”

“Don’t think you’re ready?” Gally buried his nose on Isaac’s neck. “So, you’ve thought about it.” Maybe he should have known that Isaac would also want to be turned by some point in time. He is a teen that has been constantly hurt, the desire to become strong must have been there somewhere. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything I know, and once you decide you want the bite, I’ll be there, too.”

“You’re such a sap.” Gally gave an unapologetic shrug at the accusation.

* * *

Stiles rubbed his temples as he closes the book he just finished reading. That’s another book containing very little that can help them with the Nemeton. He reached for the journal that he and Newt used to compile all of the information they learn about the magical tree. It’s a mix of his and Newt’s handwriting and he honestly feels sorry to whoever would try to read it.

So far, all they’ve got is that the Nemeton is connected to other trees—which they already know. It’s said in the book that the Nemeton accepts life sacrifices but any dark offering will poison its roots. Stiles can only guess that the Nemeton thought that the buried Nogitsune was an offering, thus making it call out to other supernatural entities as a cry for help. But, none understood what the hell is happening so the Nemeton pulled out the big guns and had the Wild Hunt come for everyone in Beacon Hills. It seems like the kind who would doom those who can’t help it.

He held up his hand and twisted it, using magic to place back the book on the shelf. He tries his best not to get frustrated with their slow progress on the Nemeton by distracting himself—either with music or with training his Spark. The two matters in his life are progressing steadily. If he would count the unification of Werewolf Packs, that would be three—but it’s still too early to say.

Peter’s halfway through their map and lists of packs. The Alpha is making alliances left and right. It’s nothing short of impressive. They might be done with that part of their plan before the deadline they set.

He was about to levitate the next book on the shelf to his hand but Newt stopped him. “Frypan’s back from his date,” Newt said to him as he clean after himself. “We should take a moment to rest before the time we need to Apparate to Peter.”

He took the advice and slump on his seat. “So, how is the thing with Chris?”

“Last time I went to their place, the man couldn’t even stay in the same room as me.” Stiles snorted at that. “I’m thinking of sending him a very…vivid dream just because I can.”

“But he does like you already, right?”

“Oh, he wants a bloody future with me but is too much of a wuss to do anything about it.” Newt sounded irritated. “It’s been two bloody weeks, Tommy. How long does he need to make a move? What else could I even do?”

Stiles held up his hands, showing that he has no idea. “I’m not even sure what I’m going with Peter, and you’re the one here with access to someone’s psyche. I just do what feels right at the moment which means I flirt when he flirts, and try to get the upper hand in…I can’t say relationship.”

“Still haven’t given you any gift for your courtship?” Newt asked with an eyebrow raised.

“I don’t even think he remembers the courtship.” He half whines.

They were quiet for a moment before Newt scoffed his amusement. “Look at us, slintheads talking about the men we’re manipulating to have a romantic relationship with. We’re poor sods, Tommy.”

“We’re only poor sods if we don’t do it right.” He said to Newt. “Tell me it wouldn’t feel hella satisfying to see Chris Argent doing anything and everything for you.”

“Don’t tell me that’s what you want from Peter?” Newt’s smile was a tad sharp.

“He promised me the world.” Stiles reminded Newt. “So, my expectation is high.”

Gally peeked in the basement to tell them that it’s time for them to go. The two of them got up from where they were sitting and headed up. They all gathered around Newt, this time they’re using a Portkey connected to Peter’s instead of Apparating. With the keyword, Newt activated it.

The moment they landed in the new pack territory, Stiles started walking to the pack present before them. Confidence, he tells himself. He had faced Grievers and gave the bird to Janson. “What pack are we going to convince this time?” He smiled nastily. “I just love meeting new wolves.”

He knows that they would be meeting the Dakotah Pack. They’re the second biggest pack in the entirety of the United States. They need them because of their alliance with other smaller werewolf packs. Stiles just knows how to capture their attention and make them bow down to them.

“Stiles, manners.” Peter chided him lightly. He then turned to who seems to be the Alpha. “This is Stiles, my Spark.” He gestured to the rest of the pack and started introducing them, neglecting to share the position of his Betas but willing to tell everyone what Newt was. “The Wizard that I mentioned.”

“Well met.” The woman at the center said.

“Hale Pack,” Peter called out to them. “This is the Dakotah Pack. Miakoda, as their Alpha.” He gestured to the woman with long straight hair and copper skin. “Ahiga is her Right Hand.” The man was well-built, and just as tall as Gally—which in itself is an achievement. “Akecheta, her Left Hand.” The man was wearing a man bun and a muscle shirt, waving at them with a smile.

“It’s an honor.” Newt finally took a step forward, bowing ever so slightly as a show of respect. “Shall we proceed to the discussion of the creation of the council, or do you still need proof of our magic?”

Miakoda shifted her weight, and that was her first mistake. It clued Stiles in that she had never been in a situation wherein she isn’t the strongest, or she could fight her way out. Stiles took another step forward, Ahiga’s stance became protective. “We’re always…delighted to show magic. It’s a wonderful thing.”

“Stiles.” This time, Peter’s voice was harder than before. “We’re here to create—build bridges, not burn them.” Stiles tilted his head to the side, a show of submission but only to Peter. It’s all a show—to let people think that Peter has the upper hand, that the Alpha has the trigger on the strongest weapon.

He straightened up as he stares at the female Alpha. “I’m sorry.” He said to Miakoda. “The…long trips sometimes take too much of myself.” Being with Newt, he learned the art of understatement. He admits that it can be useful in times.

Miakoda once again found her voice. “Spark Stiles, there’s no need for apologies. I understand how our emotions…sometimes get the best of us.”

“A gracious leader, I see,” Newt commented.

“Let’s move to a more private setting.” Miakoda nodded at one of the members of her pack. “The transportation was enough to show a magical feat.”

Instead of having the Right and Left Hand inside the room for negotiation, Miakoda called for her emissary and sent her Right and Left hand away. Peter did the same except for keeping Newt. They served her the magical contract before informing her that there is a magical community. And, yes, they can hold the hunters accountable for their actions because these magical governments are in touch with the muggle—non-magical governments, too.

“So, you’re saying that the Supernatural has been out of the loop?” Miakoda’s voice was incredulous. “And, the reason for that is the witch hunt.”

“Pretty much.” Newt runs a hand over his lips. “It didn’t help that hunters popped up around the eighteen hundreds.”

“It probably reinforced the need to hide.” The Dakotah’s pack emissary—Hototo. “It…it makes sense, in a way.” He added. “I mean, everyone knows the story of Lycaon but we all know that Zeus isn’t real. What if—what if it wasn’t a god that cursed Lycaon? What if it’s a Wizard? Newt did mention that they have a different type of werewolf in their…community.”

“I’ve studied the type of Lycanthropy the Wizardkind has, and am studying the supernatural kind,” Newt said.

“Studying?” Miakoda’s tone was accusing.

“Purely natural observation,” Newt assured her. “Nothing invasive.”

“What have you found?” Hototo asked—excitement lacing his voice.

“The main difference is that the supernatural werewolf has more control over their shifts than the magical werewolf.” Newt shared. “The magical werewolves only shift during a full moon and they lose their higher level of thinking if they don’t use a potion. I have a theory as to why supernatural werewolves have more control than the magical, but I have to gather enough evidence to prove it.”

“Are you willing to share that theory now?” Miakoda kept herself from sounding desperate.

Newt shared a look with Stiles. He held his friend’s gaze for a moment before nodding. Stiles took the back seat as Newt explained all of his theories to Hototo and Miakoda. Peter was also an active listener, asking questions when something wasn’t clear to him but not enough to make himself look clueless.

Halfway through the discussion, it was only Newt and Hototo speaking. Miakoda seemed to be seconds from a migraine and Peter was absorbing every bit of information flowing out the mouths of the Wizard and emissary. It got to the point wherein Stiles thought Newt and Hototo would start finishing each other’s sentences. He almost pouted at that thought.

“The discussion has been fascinating,” Stiles spoke up. “I agree that it should be studied further, but it would be difficult to do so if the supernatural and the magical remain ignorant of each other.” They need to get the talk going.

“A very valid point.” Hototo sighed before turning to Miakoda. “If I am, to be honest here, it would be foolish of us not to join the council of werewolves that are being founded. Yes, there will be restrictions—all governing body does, but it is in place to protect than to oppress. Besides, this council is being built as protection from the hunters. The possibility of uncovering werewolf—and other supernatural creature’s origin is just…let’s say a cherry on top.”

Miakoda let Hototo’s words wash over her. Her face is set in deep contemplation and Stiles can’t blame her. She has a lot of Betas to think of. She can’t make rash decisions that might cause her the life of her pack.

Miakoda reached for the parchment Newt presented to her earlier and then a fountain pen by her table. With a very little flourish, she signed the contract. Stiles felt magic surged in the air, connecting Miakoda and the rest of her pack to the binding words of the contract.

She didn’t let her nerves show much as she sits up straighter. “The news of your plan to create a council has spread far and wide,” Miakoda said to Peter. “There would be packs interested to join and packs interested in destroying your plan before it even sees the light of day. In exchange for a high position in the council that you are creating, I will be willing to hold a summit here in my territory all at my expense.”

Peter’s eyebrows raised. “The Hale Pack isn’t lacking in money.”

“But, you are lacking manpower.” Miakoda pointedly said. “It’s the only reason why you would risk traveling and entering territories of other packs with little regard if they are hostile or not. And, may I remind you, that you were a…very effective Left Hand when your former Alpha was still alive—not everyone will be welcoming.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Peter smiled at her blandly. “May I have a moment with my emissary to discuss this? You’ll have your answer before the night ends.” Miakoda nodded towards them, and they took that as their cue to leave her office.

Stiles applauds Miakoda’s balls in cutting that kind of deal with them, but he can see it in her eyes that she’s not all that hopeful about it. Makes him wonder why she would bother if she’s not confident that she’s going to get the upper hand. But then, he remembers how menacing the whole Hale Pack seem despite the lack of numbers and understands this is the closest they would get an Alpha from groveling.

* * *

Peter had spent most of his waking moment, if he’s not in Pack meetings, on his phone. He called the contractor responsible for the house pack—they have to add more people to get the mansion done on time. He got in touch with an attorney that he knew, inquiring whether there’s a way for him to practice law again—it’s starting to seem more trouble than it’s worth. He called in favors from his supernatural contacts till he found a book worthy to be gifted to Stiles.

He stopped by the door of the guest room he is accommodating and faced Newt. “Tell the others about the meeting, the deal Miakoda wants, and that we’re accepting it.”

“I thought you’re going to discuss it with Tommy first.” Newt’s baffled expression was a bit disapproving.

“She has a point,” Peter said then lowered his voice to make sure that no one else will hear them. “You know she has a point. Also, this will move all of our timetables earlier—meaning I’ll be introducing the supernatural to the magical earlier which we all know we need. From there, it’s all domino effect. We’ll tell Stiles’ Dad, we’ll look for evidence of Kate’s crimes, she’ll be in magical jail, Gerard will follow after, Allison will lead the hunters, and we lead everyone to a whole new world.”

Newt sighed. “You know it’s not that easy.”

“Nothing in life ever is.” Peter opened the door and guided Stiles inside. “Go play messenger for me, I need I moment with my darling.”

Newt gave him a mock salute. “Wanker.” Newt muttered as he turns around, knowing Peter will hear it. Stiles snorted an amused laugh at that but went inside the room.

Peter closed the door and crowded Stiles. He stood behind Stiles and buried his face on the teen’s growing hair. He crept his hands and arms around Stiles’ hips all to his waist. Stiles let himself be pulled and covered Peter’s hands with his, rubbing his thumb in small circles—almost reassuringly.

“I can drown in your scent, darling.”

“I can simply drown in you,” Stiles said with a wistful tone. “Did you miss me?”

“More than I would ever be comfortable to admit.” Peter thinks it’s unfair that Stiles doesn’t have the same primal need that he does due to his wolf. It makes him want to give the bite to the teen—or maybe he simply wants to bite Stiles.

“That’s okay.” Stiles freed himself from Peter’s hold, settling himself on the bed. “You just have to get used to admitting it.”

The white sheet looks wrong on Stiles’s pale complexion. Peter would rather see him lie on black or navy blue satin. He’s certain that his mouth will water if Stiles lie down on something red—covered in red, flushed and panting. Peter felt his fangs poking his lips. From Stiles’s smile, his eyes must have also flashed red.

“You tempt me so.” Peter’s words were slurred by his fangs.

“Do I?”

Peter kneeled by his feet. “You know you do.” He looked up at Stiles. “Where is the sweet, innocent boy who blushed the first time he saw me naked?”

Stiles cupped his face with one hand—nails digging at his cheek. “The boy realized the power he has over his Alpha.” He leaned down, centimeters away from Peter’s lips. Stiles let their eyes lock before he closes the remaining distance.

A kiss—so chaste yet tilting the axis of Peter’s existence. Yes, Stiles does have power over him. Why did he ever think otherwise? His darling Stiles had healed him—saved him, and is now lifting him for all the world to see.

Stiles ended their kiss and Peter opened his eyes—when did he close them? It doesn’t matter. Stiles is wearing a pleased smile.

“I have a gift.” His voice was wrecked. He’d feel ashamed if it was anyone else, but it’s Stiles.

“You do?” Stiles perked up on the bed. He sounded delightfully surprised. “Is it a courting gift? Tell me, it is. I’ve been so nervous about the courting, you know since it’s been months. I didn’t know if you still want me like that.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else.” Peter got up to his feet to retrieve the book.

The book didn’t look like a book. From its sheer size, it’s more of a tome. The cover is made of leather and the pages are made of parchment. He presented it to Stiles and the teen’s smile was wider than it was before.

“Oh, my God, Peter,” Stiles exclaimed as he scans the pages. “This is—this is about the Nemeton. Even the ministry couldn’t find a sole book dedicated to the study of that damn tree. But, you—you found one! Of course, you’ll find one.”

Peter watched as Stiles flip one page after another, eyes scanning the information—mouth moving along. Losing a few million was worth seeing the look of amazement on Stiles’s face. He almost doesn’t mind the haggling, bartering, and downright threatening to get the book.

“This will help me and Newt in finding the perfect ritual to cleanse the tree.” Stiles looked up at him. “This is…this is great, Peter. It’s perfect for a gift.”

“Of course.” Peter didn’t hold back his preening. “You deserve nothing but the best.”

Stiles’s smile was small, but there was a sharpness to it—not the dangerous kind. He closed the book carefully, mindful of its weary appearance, and set it aside. He reached out to Peter’s hand and tugged it gently. Peter followed the silent instruction of sitting next to him. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but next to his darling.

“This gift really made me happy.” Stiles’s voice was raspy.

Peter can tell that the earlier jovial mood has been replaced. Sensuality comes his way. “I’m glad.” His voice sounded weak to his ears. It came out as a breathy whisper.

“I remember mentioning rewards for good behavior.” Stiles faked a thoughtful expression.

Peter swallowed the lump on his throat. He’s thankful that Stiles is not a werewolf, he’d be embarrassed by the scent of his arousal in the air. He didn’t even think that he would be in to…this kind of thing—whatever this is, he thought to himself.

But, it’s delicious—in a way. If he would stick out his tongue, he would probably be able to taste it. His arousal, Stiles’s magic. And Stiles, he wants to taste Stiles. With that in mind, he unconsciously licked his lips. Stiles caught the movement, in turn, made Peter aware of what he just did. He’s acting like a horny, young pup and not at all like an Alpha that is in control of his facilities. From Stiles’s laugh, it doesn’t seem he minds much.

Stiles then swung one of his legs across Peter’s lap and shifted his weight over the werewolf. Upon instinct, Peter placed his hands on Stiles’s hips and the Spark placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders. The temperature of the room just rose by several hundred degrees.

“Put away the dangerously beautiful fangs, wolf.” Stiles was caressing Peter’s shoulder and upper back.

Peter closed his mouth. He wasn’t even aware that his fangs dropped. He cleared his throat and made sure his fangs had retreated before speaking. “Sorry about that, darling.”

Chest to chest, Stiles pushed himself closer to Peter. Slowly encircling his arms around Peter, putting much of his weight on his lower front—which is also Peter’s lower front. “I like it.” Stiles mouthed the words sensually. “It lets me know you want me.”

“So much.”

“Well, the gift is mind-blowing. It’s only right you’re rewarded for that.”

“You should know that I didn’t do it for any reward.” Peter felt like he needed to say it because he didn’t. He searched for a gift that would benefit Stiles in his endeavor—that’s it. There’s no other agenda to it but to help his darling.

“I know,” Stiles said. “You could have given me a simple gift—a jar of mountain ash, a rare strand of wolf’s bane, or jewelry. But, you put the effort into this gift. It’s well thought out and I’m sure not easy to get.” He tilted his head to the side. “As per courting guidelines, I can’t give you anything back until you give me the third gift. That doesn’t mean I can’t show you how much I appreciate this, though.”

Stiles closed the distance between them once more. This time the kiss wasn’t chaste. It wasn’t hurried. Stiles moved his lips over Peter’s slowly—dragging out each kiss, lick, and nibble. Peter can only fall into the pace set out by the Spark. A moan was heard the moment their tongues touched, a blissful exploration.

Peter heard electricity sizzle in the air. He should be afraid by the amount of magical energy Stiles is giving off, but all he finds in it is satisfaction. He will be the only one who would be able to make Stiles lose control of his magic. The same way that Stiles will be the only one who would make him lose control over his wolf. There would be no one else for them.

Both of them were breathing heavily when they parted. Stiles’s lips were swollen and Peter can only imagine he isn’t in much better condition. He’d be ashamed of the erection that’s tenting his pants, but he isn’t the only one who has it.

“I can’t have sex until I’m eighteen,” Stiles said as apropos to nothing.

“I will never add statutory rape in my list of crimes.” Peter felt the need to say. “I can wait.”

Stiles’s expression turned naughty. “I’m sure we can find ways to have fun while we wait.”

* * *

The Kiss. That’s how Chris thinks about it. It isn’t ‘the kiss’, it’s ‘The Kiss’. Learn carefully the difference.

He wants to say that he didn’t know where it came from. He wants to say that he didn’t know why he did it. But, that would be a lie—the biggest one he would ever tell. Chris knew where and why up until who.

Newton Scamander—a teenager, unassumingly polite, adorably responsible, caring, and mature for his age. Oh, did Chris mentioned…a teenager, only a year older than his daughter. He wants to reason that Newt doesn’t act his age, but he knows that that reason will fall on deaf ears. No matter how mature Newt holds himself, he is still a minor. A minor that he shouldn’t have kissed.

Oh, but the kiss!

Newt’s lips were soft—the softest he had ever kissed. It was warm and pliant under his, inexperienced but quick to follow Chris’s movements. It only took a split second for their mouths to be in-sync.

The sound that Newt made—Chris’s entirety was brought to life. He wishes he had it recorded. It’s the kind of music he won’t ever get tired of.

For the past weeks, he had been thinking back about The Kiss sporadically. He once caught himself licking his lips, trying to remember the taste of Newt’s lips—which was mini-mallows and hot chocolate. He wanted to put the memory in a jar, preserve it so he will never forget about it because a part of him knows, and dreads, that it will be the only kiss he will receive from Newt.

He tried not to be sad and bitter about it. Keyword being ‘tried’. Chris just can’t help but feel and think that it was unfair. He had been married to a woman that cheated on him whilst he remained faithful to their vows, and now that he’s finally free to love, he’d fall in love with a young man.

Hit the break for the minute.

Chris physically paused from chopping the carrot. Who said it was love? He said it was love. When did it become love? He mentally backs tracks from the kiss to the conversations, from the dreams up until their first introduction.

There was…no trace of it. No, that isn’t correct. There wasn’t that big boom moment. There was no zing or pizazz.

It was dreams and daydreams. It was greetings and conversations. It was a show of affection and care to the sole person in Chris’s life that he shows affection and care for. It was realizing that the teenager—that Newt was someone he wants in his life, and perhaps needs.

‘There’s nothing wrong with needing someone.’ Newt told him.

Chris felt like an idiot. Why didn’t he had this epiphany the night of the kiss? He’s been avoiding Newt like the plague for the past weeks because of how guilty he feels. The distance he had placed between them might have damaged their already shaky…friendship? Can he even say that they have a friendship?

Jesus fucking Christ, he is fucked—he had ruined everything before anything could even start.

He heard the front door open and close, sure that it would be Allison. He’s good at compartmentalizing, so for the time being, he boxed his dilemma and focused on his daughter. Still, he only listened with half an ear and tried to make his answers seem enthusiastic.

That is until Allison said the magical words. “Dad, we need to talk.”

“What about?” He turned from the stove to Allison.

“You and Newt.”

Chris can’t stop the tensing of his muscles. He should have known, Newt never said anything about not mentioning anything to his daughter. Besides, what did he expect? Newt wouldn’t feel comfortable in their home anymore after he forced himself on the teen.

“Ever since the funeral, the two of you have been…acting strange.” Allison started. “I tried asking Newt about it, all I got was a guilty look on his face and something about it not being his secret alone. Whatever that ‘it’ was, he didn’t mention.”

It was almost a relief, but he knows Allison isn’t done.

“I know that whatever it is, it should be between the two of you, but it is honestly painful to watch you both avoid each other.” He watched as Allison took in a fortifying breath and wish he could do the same. “It’s harder than watching you and Mom fight.”

“Oh, Ally…” Chris feels like a dirtbag right at that moment. He wanted to comfort his daughter, but at the same time, he’s unsure if he should—especially if he’s going to come clean. “It was…it was my fault.”

Allison was staring at him expectantly. He’s trying to think of a way to say it that will soften the blow. All Chris can think of was just ripping the band-aid off. He’ll have to face the consequences of his actions—if his daughter hates him, then he will have to accept that and try to make amends. He hopes that this doesn’t ruin Allison’s friendship with Newt and the rest of the group. Having friends had a positive effect on his daughter, it would be a damn shame if she loses them over his mistake.

“I—I kissed Newt.”

Allison’s face went through a series of expressions until it landed on a confused one. “Like…in the lips, like, full-on romantic kiss?”

“Yes.” Tongues were involved, he kept that information to himself.

“Oh…” Allison merely breathed out. “Then, why have you been avoiding him?”

“Because what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have forced myself on him—“

“Woah.” Allison held up her hands in a gesture for Chris to slow down. “What do you mean force yourself?”

It’s painful to explain everything fully to Allison. He shouldn’t be sharing this with his daughter because she’s his daughter. “He was being stubborn with the dishes, and he just…looked like…he—Jesus Christ.” Chris ran a hand over his head it didn’t do anything for his nerve. “…he looked like he belongs there—I mean, here…in this house—in our life. So, I initiated the kiss.”

Allison covered her mouth with both of her hands, shock written all over her face.

Shame curled at the bottom of Chris’s stomach. “I’m sorry.” He quickly said. “I’ll apologize to Newt—“

“What?” Allison’s question was closer to an exclamation. “No! Newt will be legal in three weeks.”

“Wha—I’m sorry?” Now, it’s his turn to be confused.

“Newt will be legal in three weeks,” Allison said to him meaningfully.

“So?”

“You can ask him out on a date by then.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, it’s a great idea.” Allison smiled at him—big and bright, ultimately excited.

It’s nice to know that Allison wouldn’t have any problem with him entering a new relationship—even if it’s with someone of the same sex and younger than Chris. Still, he can’t just ask Newt out after…after The Kiss for the simple fact that Newt misunderstood the gesture. Chris will need to explain why he kissed Newt, and with the explanation comes a confession. He’s not sure if he’s ready for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the video! I didn't want to put it on Youtube, I'm shy like that. You can comment here on what you think about it. It's my very first edit, please be kind.
> 
> [Here it is!](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1EOpuWqG6vasyFnUx6oyXFOhmodPgDUTY/view?usp=sharing)
> 
> Oh, another thing, who do you think Minho will be with? Because I'm telling you now, I don't even know where this idea came from. Hahahaha!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all twisted minds and feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update for 2020, I think. Let's all greet 2021 with a cheer and hope that it will get better. I don't know when I would start getting busy again, so I might stick to my general rule of one chapter per month-unless I'll have free time to write as much as I have for this month.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that had taken the chance to read this story, left kudos and encouraging comments-they mean a lot to me, bookmarked this story and subscribed. I hope everyone is still having as much fun as I am. Don't be shy on commenting what you have in mind, just please be kind.
> 
> This story isn't Beta'd, but I do proofread it. Please pardon the mistakes that gets past me. On to the story...

Derek learned the hardest lesson life can impart to him at a young age. The lesson was paid in full with the life of his family. He will never believe in sweet smiles that are matched by even sweeter words.

He can blame Kate all he wants, but he knows the truth. It was his fault. He was too hasty—too eager, too desperate for the kind of love that he never thought he would never have. Now, familial love will only be a distant memory to him. He’s also too bitter for any kind of commitment, so it’s better for him to just let it be. Why should he be happy when he killed his family?

Thinking back, his reasoning is all too immature. He was too immature—wanting to prove to everyone that he can also have a relationship. It was all too trivial. In the face of his family’s death, he realized just how childish he really was.

There are nights he’s afraid to close his eyes. He’s afraid to see dancing red flames and lifeless blue eyes. The background of his nightmares would either be the dark sky of the forest, or the white walls of the hospital. He learned how to force himself awake from those nightmares, but then again—those are truly memories, not some ghost created by the figment of his imagination.

After leaving their only surviving relative, Derek retreated into himself. Gone is the boy that was friendly and out-going. He didn’t even think about trying to find a friend. He just doesn’t trust himself like he used to. The experience left him cautious of everyone around him.

Derek thinks about the possibility of losing his sister if he makes the same mistake, and he can’t. He doesn’t think he can be alone, no matter how solitary he’s become. It’s also the reason why he sticks with his sister even when they don’t agree on everything.

He didn’t agree with the move. He didn’t agree with leaving their Uncle. Now, he doesn’t agree that going back to take over Beacon Hills is the right thing to do.

Derek doesn’t know who Laura contacts for her to get updates on the supernatural of Beacon Hills. The news of Peter waking up from his catatonic state, healing, and becoming an Alpha should be celebrated. He watches his sister seethe in righteous indignation—he doesn’t even know where that is coming from. They left, if Peter decided to pick up protecting the people of Beacon Hills from the supernatural, Derek thinks it’s his right. He voiced that out that much to Laura.

Laura flashed her eyes at him. “Beacon Hills isn’t his.” She said through clenched teeth.

Derek tried not to cave under the pressure of Laura’s Alpha Spark. “Peter is a Hale. It is his as much as it is ours.” Perhaps, even more, he kept that thought to himself.

“He is not the true Alpha of our land.” Laura insisted. “I’m the one that inherited the Alpha Spark from our mother. I’m the next Alpha in line. I’m the Alpha of Beacon Hills.” If he starts pointing out the obvious, he knows they would be talking in circles.

He let out a sigh. He supposes it doesn’t matter who becomes the Alpha of Beacon Hills—they’re both Hales. What he thinks is important is being together. Maybe with Peter, they can start anew, be the protectors of Beacon Hills the way they were meant to.

Still, from his sister’s huffing and puffing, he knows it wouldn’t be a smooth transition back to Beacon Hills. He also knows Peter, and there’s no way Peter will let Laura simply be the Alpha after everything that happened. If the two would fight for the Alpha position of the pack, he hopes it wouldn’t be to the death.

He saw Laura hunched on her laptop again. She was muttering darkly as she scrolls through whatever it was she’s reading. Derek dreads asking what’s bothering her, but at the same time, he’s curious. “What is it?”

“Peter’s been busy.” She said it like it’s a bad thing. “He hasn’t only been proclaiming to be the Alpha of Beacon Hills, but he’s also creating alliances with old and new packs. He is enticing them by saying something about a werewolf council that will hold the hunters responsible for the harm they’ve done to werewolves.” She scoffed at that. “He wants to lead packs when he couldn’t even prevent the fire from happening. What a joke!”

Derek never mentioned to his sister what his role was in the fire. He knows Laura—he knows that if she finds out, she wouldn’t hesitate in leaving him. In the same way, she didn’t hesitate in leaving Peter.

Laura didn’t sense his internal struggle as she continued talking. “Peter had the Alpha of the Dakotah pack calling a Summit for him. What kind of Alpha can’t call a Summit inside his territory?”

He wanted to remind Laura that Peter is still starting a pack. There is no way he would be able to find enough Betas to host a Summit in Beacon Hill. Instead, he decided to ask the question in his mind. “Are we going to the Summit?”

“It would be held a week from now, we’d be pressed for time if we try.” Laura doesn’t seem to be worried about whatever will be discussed in the Summit. “Let’s stick to our initial plan.”

Derek wants to point out that it’s all Laura’s plan. While he wants to go back to Beacon Hills to see Peter again, he isn’t sure about staying there. It’s not like Laura would give him a choice anyway.

Derek let Laura arrange everything for their move. He still thinks it’s wrong that she’s assuming Peter will let them stay, but he tries to be hopeful. He has a lot of memories in that place, some good and some bad. He’d like to try not to let all the bad stuff take over his life any more than it already did.

While they are not in a hurry, Laura does want to have their place sold within a month. It’s also enough time for them to quit their respective jobs and Laura to say farewell to all her friends. Derek didn’t make such a fuss about their move, in turn, his boss in the auto shop did the same. Though, during his last day, he was treated to a few glasses of beer.

When asked about his plans, Derek was honest enough. He told them that a relative of his woke up from a coma. Though he twisted the reason why Laura wants to go back, he said that he and his sister decided to head back to their childhood home to help the said relative. It’s not even a complete lie—not on his end anyway.

Derek let his mind wander at night, thinking about how his family would react if they find out the truth.

* * *

Gally studied the security plan intended to implement by the Dakotah pack. This is the third plan they have given him to review, there have been some small improvements and he is not satisfied with it at all. Having been part of a rebellion, looking for weak spots or possible opening is something he is very used to. He isn’t shy in showing the other pack just how good he is at it.

He sent the plan he had basically destroyed without adding any helpful information or tips through the chain of email that is steadily growing by the day. Look, he had a personal growth in between being speared by Minho and picked up to fight WCKED, which doesn’t mean he stopped being a jerk. He and Minho are the oddest Left-Right Hand man there is if he thinks about it. He’s also aware that they wouldn’t fit in their roles if not for all the things they went through.

Thomas came barreling through the door of the house, a cellphone pressed in his ear. He’s talking animatedly—with a healthy dose of sarcasm, to the person at the other end of the line. That has been a familiar sight over the days.

Gally fought down a smile, but Isaac noticed the slight twitching of his mouth. His boyfriend nudged at him, even when he is wearing an amused expression, too. Allison was looking at them, eyes going back and forth.

“Are you saying you don’t want Gally’s input on the matter?” Thomas asked—daring the person to say that they don’t. Gally almost feels bad for Hototo and Ahiga. “It’s great that you think so.” Thomas turned to him with his eyes narrowed. “We hold the security of the Summit with utmost importance. There may be no hunter in attendance—we’d like to keep it that way, and Gally, while he is still baby faced—“

Gally sends a finger to Thomas.

“—is good at finding every nook and cranny that can be a weak spot.” Thomas was silent for a moment before he started punching the air in front of him. “I’ll tell him as soon as I see him. Yes, have a good day, too. Bye.” Thomas ended the call and sneered at Gally. “You shank.”

“What?” He looked far from innocent. He can tell that Isaac and Allison are watching their interaction closely. The two trying to understand the dynamic between him and Thomas. He’d ask them once they figure it out because he can’t tell himself.

“Kudos in showing off your skill, but couldn’t you make it seem less antagonistic?” Thomas asked as he threw his bag on an armchair. “It’s saying a lot if Hototo had to call me, and they don’t even like me.”

“They don’t really have a choice but to call you.” Gally pointed out. “You are our emissary. It is your job to keep people connected.”

“And, it is your job to be less of an asshole.” Thomas sat on the armchair with a huff. He opened up his bag and started pulling out the gift Peter had given him. Isaac and Allison’s eyes were almost bulging out of their eyes. “My bag has magical extensions and charms that lightens it, though it is also warded that I’ll be the only one to see what’s really inside.” He explained.

“What’s an emissary?” Allison asked.

“It’s the member of the pack responsible for creating treaties with other packs, sometimes even hunters,” Isaac answered and Gally couldn’t be more proud.

“Are there any other roles inside a pack?” Allison asked.

As if on cue, Frypan walked in from the kitchen with their snacks in hand. “We have the Alpha, he’s the leader of the pack—in our pack that’s Peter. Betas are members so that all of the boys. Among the Betas, there are the Right Hand and Left Hand along with the emissary.”

Fry paused to hand Allison her drink. “Our Right Hand is Gally, think of him as Peter’s second. If the Alpha is slacking, he’ll pick it up. He’s also responsible for the integration of newer members inside the pack along with leading the pack in a fight.” Fry sat next to Allison. “Our Left Hand is Minho, he’s the enforcer. If a pack member goes against the rules, he will be the one to punish them. Also, he looks out for the pack by anticipating threats—both hidden and seen.”

“What about you?” Allison asked. “What’s your position in the pack?”

“I’m mostly back-up,” Fry said with a shrug.

Newt came out of the basement with books and his journal in hand. He settled on the floor next to the armchair Thomas is sitting on. He placed everything he is holding on the coffee table. “Having a role inside a pack isn’t as glamorous as it sounds.”

At that Gally had to agree. “There’s so much reading involved and I’m not exactly as smart as the rest.” He tried not to roll his eyes as another email popped on the laptop.

“You wouldn’t be going back and forth if you send them some tips,” Isaac told him.

“I am a strong believer in learning through mistakes.” Gally hunched once again in front of the screen and started reading the security plan details.

Newt snorted a laugh at that. “Come on, Gally, we only have a week to get everything ready and right for the Summit. If we do this right, we’ll only do this once. I think that’s initiative enough.” He started flipping through his books. “Besides, I’m sure they would be thankful once you point out all the weak spots in their defense.”

Gally hummed under his breath. “Is there any way you can Apparate me back in their territory?”

“I can—as long as we have permission because this Summit is a big boon for us. I don’t want to get on their bad side.” Newt pulled out a quill, still not completely comfortable with a pen.

“I’m going to send them an email asking for permission,” Gally announced to everyone, then he turned to Isaac. “You can stay here for however long you want, but if they agree to let us in, I’ll be going to see the whole place again. “

“Then, he’d proceed to demolish their defense,” Thomas muttered as he started to read.

“Well, wow them, I guess.” Isaac leaned on his shoulder and Gally started typing away.

* * *

Frypan and Minho took over the daily perimeter check to help the others with the upcoming Summit. Gally has his hands full at the moment, Thomas even more so, and Newt’s been bothered just as much as the other two by the Dakotah Pack emissary. Frypan doesn’t at all mind running around the preserve and sniffing the air to check if there’s anything or anyone dared to enter their territory.

He circled back to where he left Allison. The female Argent insisted on going with him even when he told her that it would be boring for her. Frypan knows better though, it is Allison’s way to get him alone and out of the public’s eyes.

He shook off his werewolf appearance with a shake of his head. His claws retracted before he even reached Allison’s side. He gave her a small smile as she handed him his shirt. He doesn’t like running with a shirt on for the simple fact that he will get his sweat on it. With his enhanced sense of smell, it’s not comfortable to walk around smelling sweat—even if it is his own.

He sat next to her, giving her shoulder a playful nudge. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, missy.”

Allison smiled at him—a bit abashed. “I guess I wasn’t sneaky enough.” She then turned her face downward, not reading the words on the textbook she opened before Frypan headed for his run.

“You don’t need to be sneaky around me, just speak your mind.” He said encouragingly. “Though, if you want to learn how to be sneaky, Thomas will gladly teach you.” He reached out to her gently, tilting her chin for their eyes to meet. “What’s bothering you?”

“I—“ She hesitated before shaking her head lightly from side to side. An action to shake off her initial thought. “It’s stupid—never mind.”

“Hey, anything bothering you isn’t stupid. Come on, you know I’ll always be here for you.”

Allison stared at him for a moment before speaking. “Why haven’t you invited me to join you during the full moon?”

“Besides your Dad’s curfew?” He took a second to steady himself. Frypan knows he has to tell her enough, but not give everything away for their manipulation of her to work.

While Newt says he doesn’t have to do anything, Frypan doesn’t need magic to know that Allison needs to be heavily influences—and that can’t come from one source alone. She’d be able to shake it off, the same way she did with her Gerard—from what Thomas told them. Allison’s influence needs to come from different fronts for it to be fully solidified. From her Dad to her friends, and her boyfriend.

“I haven’t asked Peter for your place in the pack.”

Her eyes glistened hurt. “Why?”

“I—Allison, you have to understand, being what we are—we constantly live under the threat that someone may kill us. The worst part is, death would be a kindness.” He took her hand in his the moment she gasped. “Minho never talks about what happened to him, we respect that—but we all know that a part of him was lost when we got him back. I can’t imagine losing you in any sense. You have to forgive me of my weakness.”

“Aren’t you here to create some sort of alliance, so that those hunters wouldn’t hurt you anymore? There’s no need—“

“There’s also no guarantee.” Frypan let out a breath through his nose. He has to play this carefully. “You’ve been learning about packs, werewolves, and magic—but we haven’t touched the subject of hunters. We don’t like to expose you to those nasty things—I don’t like you exposed to them. But, even if we manage to unite the Supernatural and Magical, there’s no guarantee that the hunters would honor our laws. They might even retaliate, there’s not telling because it all depends on their leading Matriarch.”

“You’re going to have to create some kind of…of accords with them, too.” Allison realized with very little leading on Frypan’s part.

“That’s right.” He nodded at her. “If everything works out the way we hope to, then we’d be living in a more peaceful world. But if not…I don’t want you to go through the same things we did.”

Allison sniffled then rested her head on his chest. “I’m sorry for being pushy.”

Frypan enveloped her with one arm and leaned back on the tree’s bark. “It’s not your fault. I should have told you right away. It’s just—hard to talk about it, the tests and deprivation we went through. I can’t fault the others for being a bit hedonistic after the experience.”

“Gally does like his sweaters extra soft.” Allison joked weakly.

Frypan chuckled at that. “It was like a Henley fest inside that place you’d think they were sponsored by the company.” He joked.

He thinks telling her about the trials wouldn’t hurt. It will gain her sympathy, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to think about it. Yes, it’s there—always at the forefront of his mind, but that doesn’t mean he’ll willingly think about it. Thinking back—it might smoother the positivity that he had struggled all his life to keep. It’s too painful, and there are old holds better left as it is.

Still, he would tell her something to keep her on their side.

“What I hated most though…” He started with a sigh. “…is the way they took small comforts away and used it against us. Decent food, a bed, a solid wall to keep the rain out—they used it to keep us compliant.”

Allison placed a comforting hand over his chest. “You will succeed.” She said in a firm voice—it was almost like she was ordering Fry. It made him smile, he supposes her training was slipped in some form or another that she wouldn’t notice it. But, he can see it—almost, the way she can lead. “You guys are smart, capable than most are, and you have a ton of determination.”

Frypan just knows the next words he has to say. “And, you’ll be there with us—with me.”

* * *

After the Winter Formal, Minho wouldn’t say that they have gotten popular—but there had been a fuck ton of people smiling at them in the hallway which he thinks is crazy. He doesn’t remember teenagers being this shallow, then again, these teenagers didn’t experience the Maze. He can only guess that the change in mentality happened whilst the whole world was going down the drain. Man, what the world would be though if kids focused on things that matter. Now he’s sounding like an old man. Where is his cane? He’ll love to yell at the kids to get off their lawn.

He settled at the very back of the cluster of violinists. They looked at him strangely and he just smiled at them. He would usually sit on the piano bench with the other pianist but he had spoken with their teacher when he bought himself a violin. The teacher was kind enough to let him change instruments in the middle of the semester after hearing him play.

“Do you even know how to play that?” One girl haughtily asked him when he pulled out his violin from the case.

“Yeah.” He answered cheerily, he likes how people with attitude gets even more irritated when he is all smiles and pleasantries. “It’s the second instrument I learned to play when I was a kid.”

Another girl turned towards him, and this one wasn’t haughty at all. She’s all hair flips and suggestive interest. “That’s so cool. How many instruments can you play?”

“Three—I’m thinking of learning how to play the drums, but Stiles has been busy with classes. There’s just no free time.” He had everything he needed set up and trying his very best not to scrunch up his nose because of someone’s perfume.

The teacher walked into their classroom and they all quieted down to get the class started. Their teacher started by announcing he will be playing the violin and proceeded to hand them the music sheet for the new piece they would be working on. They discussed the piece first before going ahead and playing the first part. They made quite progress before the class ended.

The bell signaled the end of their class and everyone was quick to pack their stuff. Minho did in a sedate pace, even humming the piece they were playing just moments ago. It’s one of the learning ticks that he developed over the years. It helps him memorize the pieces he plays.

He walked down the hallway to his locker to leave his violin there and get his textbook for his next class. There are moments wherein Minho feels the need to take a mental step back. Every time he does that, his wolf perks up in attention—as if telling him that everything that had happened is real. He’s thankful for it, and at the same time lonely about it.

He sees his friends look at him with respect and concern for what he had lost when he was tortured inside the WCKED facility. But, Minho thinks, that the rest of the Gladers aren’t completely aware of just how their whole journey affected them, too. The rest may think he had the worst of it, still, Minho knows that they’re all just equally traumatized.

He doesn’t even think that the Gladers notice how their trauma is affecting their decisions. How they all struggle with their need for control and to control. How selective they have become about who they are going to care for.

He thinks about Isaac—weakness like an open vein to be exploited. Isaac is better off with Gally—better off with them that much is true, the Right Hand would care for the teen. He thinks of Allison—the innocence of a sheltered child with a viciousness of a huntress just waiting to be unleashed. Allison will reach her full potential, she just won’t realize that it’s already been aimed at someone.

He thinks about Peter—his gratitude and ambition turned against him coupled with Thomas knowing just how to keep his attention. Peter isn’t truly leading them, but Thomas would make every single person think he does. He thinks about Chris—a man who chose to be a father before anything else, he has all but given up any hope for his happiness. Chris will be happy with Newt, he’ll just never know that everything he will do will be according to what Newt wants.

He sat down next to Thomas in their economics class. It’s one of the classes he thoroughly enjoys just because of the teacher. He honestly can’t believe how a person as entertaining as Coach exists.

Coach handed out their graded test papers, Minho took a peek at Thomas’s paper and saw that unlike him Thomas only got an ‘A’. He shamelessly held up his paper for Thomas to see his ‘A+’. Thomas rolled his eyes at him in good nature.

“Lee!”

“Yes, Coach?” He turned his smile to the older man.

“While I understand that you’re happy with your test result—certainly proud of your Chinese heritage, too, there’s no need to gloat about it.” Coach isn’t big on bullying, well, unless he’s the one doing the bullying.

Minho found it charming on the man. He smiled wider at Coach. “I’m Korean, Coach.” He heard Thomas covering up his laugh with a cough.

“Whatever.” Coach didn’t even sputter.

“Sure, Coach.” The man sneered at him and Minho just sweetened his smile.

“You’re such a little shit,” Thomas muttered low enough that only Minho can hear it.

They all gathered around a table for lunch. He sat in between Newt and Thomas, picking out food from their Tupperware, too. Thomas giving his token protests and Newt letting him after rolling his eyes.

Minho looks around him—observes the Gladers. They’ve talked about it, doing whatever they can to have a taste of happiness to get them through this whole…time travel endeavor. He asks himself if there’s any other way they can find happiness if there’s any other way they can live their life. He can’t come up with an answer.

Minho knows that he had lost too much of himself in the facility. The other Gladers haven’t realized that they have lost parts of themselves, too. He thinks about the possible fallout once they do and thinks that it’s better if they don’t realize it.

They’re not controlling people with the intent to hurt. They just don’t know how to be with people anymore. They’ve spent years being controlled and being told that it’s for their good. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that it becomes embedded in their subconscious. Newt will hate that—will hate knowing that even in the past WCKED still got a hold of him.

Minho sits and eats, and jokes, and pretends, and he will smile at his friends—but he will never tell them just how broken and incomplete they all are because he knows as long as they haven’t realized it, they would be able to fool themselves into happiness.

* * *

Newt’s wrist is seriously starting to hurt. He regrets not buying a damn charmed quill. “Stop gripping it like it’s a prick. For Merlin’s sake, it’s a quill.”

“Stop nagging,” Minho whined. He did make an effort to adjust his hold on the quill. “God, you’re mean when you’re stressed.”

“We’re almost done.” Thomas’s hands were shaking as he reached for another parchment. “And, Newt, just calm down. Give Chris some time to get used to the idea of being with you.”

Newt couldn’t even give Tommy a stink eye for hitting the cause of his irritation right on the head. He just—doesn’t understand. He played his cards right, at least he thinks he does. He preyed on Chris’s desires, he blushed, stuttered, and sympathized accordingly, and he showed that he can be a family man. He doesn’t understand why the man has been avoiding him.

He’s trying his best to let the problem lie for the moment. They have more pressing matters to attend to and he’s not really in shortage of things that he needed to be done. He would just sometimes find himself thinking about it and his mood would then come spiraling down.

While in the beginning, he was hesitant to let himself want—with his constant dive into the recesses of Chris’s mind, he inadvertently liked what he learned about the male hunter. Chris carries a romantic heart, but he often uses his pragmatic mind. He is knowledgeable and open-minded enough for any possibilities of—well, impossibilities. Newt also doesn’t deny that the man is attractive, and every soft thing about himself that he tries to hide makes him more attractive to Newt’s eyes.

He took in a deep breath. It’s time to reconsider things. “What if I overplayed my hand?” He asked Tommy.

They’re in the middle of writing runes on the contracts that they will be handing out for the upcoming summit. It will be held tomorrow night and they need everything arranged before morning. That way, if they forgot about anything, they will have enough time to fix it.

“You didn’t,” Tommy assured him. “The werewolves can tell that Chris is attracted to you even before Victoria died. I think this…lull in your plan will work for you in the long run. Let him repress everything he feels for you while continue with sending him dreams. It will only be a matter of time before he snaps.”

Minho stopped in the middle of writing something down. “Dream. What dream?” He didn’t sound alarmed, but he was curious. Frypan and Gally also looked up upon hearing Tommy’s reassurances for him. Newt doesn’t understand why the werewolves are more protective of him than Tommy. He likes to think that he’s just as capable as the rest.

“I poke a magical hole inside Chris's mind that lets me have exclusive access to his subconscious.” He started. “I’ve been sending him dreams of varying levels of intimacy as a part of my seduction plan.”

“I don’t know how you said half those things with a straight face,” Frypan commented before going back into writing runes.

“He’s been receptive to your plans,” Gally said to him with confidence. “He likes you so much he reeks of it. There’s something else that is stopping him.”

“Wait.” Minho stopped writing completely. “How…old are we?”

Newt rolled his eyes at Minho’s question. Sometimes his friends ask unimportant questions during serious discussions. They just can’t seem to focus on one thing at a time. “Why are you even asking?”

“Because you guys have been slutting it up—except for Frypan,” Minho was quick to add. “And you have got to realize that you have a baby-face.”

“No, I’m—“ He snapped his mouth shut. “Bloody hell.”

It was an oversight on his part. How could he forget? He isn’t only a teenager in Chris’s eyes, he’s an underage teen. With how the man’s mind works, he definitely wouldn’t dare even think of beginning a romantic relationship with Newt—let alone a sexual one.

“You’re currently—physically that is, seventeen. Though, your birthday is in a week.” Minho said with a shrug.

“Well, now we know why Chris is holding back.” Gally continued with his writing as if Newt’s problem had been solved. “And, Minho, no one has been acting like a slut.”

“I’m pretty sure sending dudes wet dreams is a very much a slutty act.” Minho insisted. “It’s just a step above nude pics.”

“No,” Tommy said. “The step above nude pics is video sex. What Newt is doing is the magical equivalent of sending nude pics. Besides, calling something that we’re doing to save the world ‘slutty’ is offensive. It lowers the moral.”

“This discussion doesn’t have any academic bearing,” Newt told them. “Also, it’s not helping me with my current predicament.”

“You just have to wait for your birthday, then you’ll be legal,” Minho said it like it should have been obvious.

“But, he doesn’t know when my birthday is.” Newt pointed out.

“Allison does,” Frypan said cheerfully—reaching for another parchment. Newt noticed that there’s only two left.

“So, let’s throw Newt a birthday party.” Minho has his excited face on. “That way everyone will know you’re eighteen.”

“No.” Newt reached for the last parchment. “A party seems irresponsible and might be counterproductive to what I’m trying to achieve.”

Tommy hummed his agreement. “A small gathering, I think, would be enough. We could do bowling, ice skating, or stay in—have a movie marathon and dinner.”

“Staying in sounds perfect.” Newt was precise in writing down the runes on the edges of the parchment. “We can invite Allison and, if I need to, I can ask Chris for permission.”

“It’s almost like you miss the guy.” Minho teased.

Newt had to bite his lips from retorting to that. “I just need to take a look inside his head again. I need to know if what I’m doing is working or not. That way I would know what I need to do next.” He sensed eyes at him, he looked up and saw that the Gladers are staring at him. “What?”

“We’re not going to judge, you know,” Tommy said. “I mean, Minho would tease but you can hex him to shut him up.”

“Hey, everyone has their coping mechanism,” Minho said defensively.

Newt gathered his thoughts for a minute as he finishes writing the runes. Once he was done, he settled the parchment on one side so the ink wouldn’t get smudged. “I can be happy with him if he falls in love with me—anything short of that, I wouldn’t be content.”

The Gladers were quiet for a moment.

“You should look inside Allison’s head, too,” Frypan said. “She mentioned talking to her Dad about why you’ve been shifty around her. Get a feel of things inside her head first before going in Chris—just to be safe.”

Newt let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He should have known that the Gladers would understand that he also wants to be happy—no matter who it is with. “Okay, I’ll do that on Monday.”

“Meeting adjourned.” Tommy playfully announced as he got up on his feet. “We’ve been stressed for the past few days. We should play to let it all out.”

“Yeah!” Minho seconded. “I already have a song recreated. I made copies of the arrangement. I’ll go get it while you guys set up the garage.”

Newt rolled his wrists for a moment, got up, and stretched his legs. He wonders if Minho still remembers that one song he had on repeat when they were alone together on a search for the ritual cup they needed. He’s just going to have to ask later. For now, they’ll play what Minho has and let their predicaments, plans, and deceit fall to the background for a few minutes.

* * *

Having a big pack has its advantage and disadvantage, Miakoda knows this by heart. She has to be careful in every decision she makes because it’s not only eight to ten people will be affected by it. She has families to care for, babies to ensure futures, elders to lead a peaceful retirement, and everyone in between. Akecheta can disagree with her all he wants but she knows what she is doing.

What Peter Hale wants to achieve—it’s something akin to what Deucalion once wants, yet better and well-thought-out. He had first appealed to his kind, letting them know that packs can agree on something. The thought of another community backing them up seems like an impossibility, but she had heard of the things the former Hale Left Hand made possible. If there is a wolf that would make people—the wizardkind, listen and take notice it would be him.

Miakoda knows that it’s quite a leap of faith to trust the same man that brought certain Alpha Packs to a heel, but she remembers. Peter Hale at the age of seventeen, theatrical as he forced the former Dakotah Left Hand into a truce that their former Alpha had to agree to. She never knew how he did it, he just did.

Peter Hale is a force on his own, but now that he’s leading a pack—a pack with a Spark and a Wizard. The first time she saw the two, she knows that they’re the most dangerous. It’s almost funny how in Peter’s pack, he would only place as the third most dangerous individual. But, she can also respect how secure he is in his position that he wasn’t intimidated by the two. It’s the simple fact that the Wizard defers to the Spark and the Spark holds Peter close to his heart and therefore giving Peter a hold over him. They did say that beauty is power.

While the rest of the Hale Pack prefers not showing off, they still stand proud and ready. Even the human who cowers behind the Right Hand—Miakoda doesn’t believe the shyness, not even for a minute. The human’s eyes were too bright and observant.

Miakoda welcomes them once again in her territory. Gally and Minho going with her Right hand to give a hand with the security that Gally planned. Frypan and Isaac volunteered to help in the kitchen, both wearing disarming smiles. Stiles and Newt joined Peter in heading straight for the function hall. It is where they will hold the Summit.

“We should place the contracts on the table,” Newt suggested. “In front of the Alphas and Emissaries that way we wouldn’t need to pass it around anymore.”

“Yeah, passing these things around would be awkward.” Stiles placed his bag on the table, zipping it open and producing—parchments. That got Miakoda raising an eyebrow at Peter.

“They also have quills,” Peter informed her.

It didn’t answer any lingering questions inside her mind, but she guesses she should just be happy that she wouldn’t have to provide pens. She tried to hide her exasperation. The smirk on Peter’s face tells her she wasn’t successful.

“The Alphas—along with their emissaries would be arriving in thirty minutes.” She informed the two magic users. “Is there anything else you would be needing?”

Newt handed the parchments to Stiles, the Spark let out a whine but continued with the task on his own. The Wizard faced Miakoda. “I’d need to set up privacy wards, also some protective wards.”

“Can you explain first what they do?” Miakoda crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn’t help but feel defensive at the presence of the teenager.

“The privacy wards are just to make sure that no one would be able to hear us outside once we close the door of this room,” Newt explained—tone far from demeaning. “The protective wards is to ensure us that no one who means harm would be able to get inside.”

She stood still for a moment. “I’ll detain any person who wouldn’t be able to get in. We can probably question them, but aside from that, I wouldn’t risk the safety of my pack by killing an Alpha of another pack.”

“We wouldn’t ask that of you.” Peter was quick to say. “If ever an Alpha does come with the intention of harming anyone, it will be best if we set them off their merry way after detaining them for the duration of the Summit.”

“Aren’t you afraid they will come after you?” She asked.

Stiles snorted from the other end of the table. “Let them try. I would like to see them try.” He’s wearing a smile that sends chills up Miakoda’s spine.

“Very well.” She inclined her head to the side, gesturing to Newt that he may now put the wards up.

The Wizard stood in the middle of the room. He pulled out his wand from a holster attached to his forearm. Newt started murmuring words in Latin as he waves his wand in the air. White light erupted from the tip of the wand, shooting up and spreading around the room.

Miakoda can feel the hairs on her arms stand up, reacting to the magic. She has had witness magical feats from Hototo’s rituals—the kinds that take months to prepare, and still, it wasn’t anything like what she is seeing now—feeling now. Wonder and fear battles inside of her.

“Miakoda.” Her musings were interrupted by her Right Hand. He entered the room and reeled back, sensing something different in the air. He sent her a silent inquiry using only his eyes and the bond that they have.

“It’s the ward the Newt put up—privacy and protection.” She informed him. “There’s nothing to worry about. Have you come to tell me something?”

“Yes, some of the Alphas and their emissaries are arriving,” Ahiga reported. “We’ve placed them first in the receiving area. We will escort them here once you are ready.”

“Hold on for a second,” Newt told them. “Tommy, come here.” Stiles placed the last parchment in place and approached Newt. “Strengthen the wards—you know the spell.”

“Wow,” Stiles muttered as he gets in place. He raised his hands in the air. “You’re not taking any chances with this one, huh.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Newt told him.

Miakoda watched—with Ahiga beside her, as Stiles closed his eyes. The Spark took in a deep breath before opening them again. The moment he uttered the same words Newt did, Miakoda felt the air around them being charged. The wolf inside her was heeling, captivated as much as she was.

Stiles pushed his arms out, and a flimsy white wall appeared around him—widening till it was touching the walls of the room. Newt yelled out another Latin word, a red light shoot out of his wand and to the wall. It rippled but it wasn’t broken down. Newt nodded approvingly to Stiles. “Strong enough to withstand an attack from senior Aurors, I would guess.”

“How about Druids and Darachs?” Stiles asked.

Newt huff a laugh. “Tommy, it would take them years before they can even weaken this kind of defense.”

Miakoda wonders if she can ask Newt to ward her territory the same way. She knows that if she wants to ask, she’s going to have to give something, too. But, she’s not sure if she has anything that the Wizard might even want.

“We’re ready,” Newt announced.

Miakoda figures she’s just going to have to bargain something. She turned to Ahiga. “Usher in the Alphas and emissaries that had arrived.”

* * *

Stiles knows that a good plan isn’t enough to convince people, they also have to present the plan with confidence for these Alphas and emissaries to join them. He tried to remember the last time he felt confident. He’s an awkward teenager then, he’s an awkward teenager now, and in between, he was an awkward person leading the Gladers from one hell hole to another.

The bottom line is, he’s awkward—he’s all but made it his brand. Then he recalls the Void and everything he did as Thomas. Yeah, he’s awkward—but he can be an awkward, competent, and intimidating teenager.

Stiles decided against sitting. He stood at the corner of the room where a window is. He plays with the curtain with his hand as he stares unseeingly outside. Alphas and emissaries walked in, giving Peter an acknowledging nod and sniffing Newt’s scent—trying to place it. They pay him no mind and that’s how he likes it.

The last Alpha-Emissary pair sat down, and Newt caught everyone’s attention by telling them the use of the contract. Some Alphas were wary, as they should be, but Newt—combined with his charm and knowledge, can get anyone to agree to do whatever he likes. It’s almost silly how he constantly worries about his progress with Chris, still, Stiles would help him if ever he needs it.

The Alphas and emissaries signed the contract and Stiles felt the runes being activated. Since he’s an endless supply of magic, they thought it’s only right to have those contracts tied to him. From the sudden intake of breaths, he can tell that he wasn’t the only one who felt the activation of the contracts.

“Allies…friends…” Peter started. “Alpha Miakoda invited you all to this summit to discuss our supposed action against the growing threat that is the Hunters. I’ve been traveling, meeting werewolf packs old and new to present to them an idea of creating a council of our own and present ourselves to a governing body that will aid us in keeping the Hunters in line.”

Stiles appreciates Peter’s wording. It’s all so carefully constructed. The idea was present but no secret was revealed, and it kept the Alphas hooked.

“My pack, former and present, had been a victim of their prejudice. We wish to seek justice for our fallen love ones and assurance that no other pack shall face what ours had. What we are going to discuss today may seem…fantastical—even to our kind, but listen closely to our words and hearts to know that we do not lie.”

Oh, the theatrics—Peter has his audience hanging by each of his words.

“The governing body that may aid us in our endeavor is a well-kept secret, and as I’ve been informed, we were once a part of it. But, the Witch Trials and Huntings bought upon us an era of separation—we were lost to each other.” Peter paused for the effect.

“The distant kin that we have forgotten are called the Wizarding Community, they are beings of magical lineage, and over the years they had developed an agreement with the human government. They protect magic users and magical creatures from exposure and from being hunted. I wish to reintroduce our kind—the Supernatural, to them and ask for their aide in facing the Hunters.”

One emissary cleared their throat—female with growing grey hair at her temples. “How are you going to approach this community, Alpha Hale? If they have been a well-kept secret, how did you even know about them?”

Stiles turned to see Newt taking a step forward. “That would be through me—Newt Scamander. I am a Wizard, sent by my government to aide Alpha Hale in this endeavor as a liaison.”

“Then it seems that the Wizarding Community already knows about the Supernatural kind.” One Alpha said.

“Due to an unfortunate event, my government has been made aware, yes—but being made aware isn’t enough to extend protection,” Newt said. “How would you feel if we Wizards simply stroll in decided how you should lead your pack—how you should live your life without so much as asking for permission to even enter your territories?” Distinct growls were being emitted, but Newt stood tall. “With a unified front, you’ll have more say in how you are to be aided. It’s a show that you have a system in place, you are organized, and only seeking aide that should have been given to you hundreds of years ago.”

“What makes you think that they will just give us their help?” Another emissary asked.

“With how the Hunters are being—outright slaughtering packs by packs, we risk exposure to the…non-magical kind.”

“So, you are not doing this solely for a selfless reason.” An Alpha with wild gold locks spoke up. She has a crazed look in her eyes.

“Your exposure is our exposure.” Newt simply said. “There’s no hiding after that, only being hunted—because, let’s face it, even if we have magic and strength on our side—the numbers will be on the non-magical. Besides that, they have no qualms killing innocents and ruining the Earth to eliminate whomever they deem a threat—that is if they don’t hand us over their scientists.”

“That would be bad.” One young emissary uttered.

“On that, we can agree.” Newt nodded at the emissary’s direction.

“I’m sorry.” One Alpha spoke up, sounding haughty. “But, what is that kid doing here?” He asked pointing at Stiles. “He doesn’t seem to be a part of this discussion, and his hovering is distracting.”

Stiles let a smile slowly creep at his face. “I’m the Hale Pack Emissary.”

“Two emissaries in one pack?” The Alpha questioned Peter.

“No, Newt is my liaison to the Wizarding Community,” Peter explained.

“So, the wizard is not part of your pack?” Another emissary, male with dark curling hair, asked—he didn’t even bother to cover up the excitement in his voice.

“Yes, he is part of my pack but he acts solely as mentioned earlier. While my emissary acts as such.” Peter let out a breath. “Can we go back to the matter at hand?” That got the other Alphas shaking themselves from the distraction. “Once we’ve made a council of our own, I’ll go ahead and reintroduce us to the magical community. Now I will tell you this, even if you join or not, I will still ask for an aide to avenge my family. I suggest that you do join, that way you will have a voice on the changes that this will bring because changes will happen.”

“You’re not giving us any choice.” A muscled Alpha growled and the walls shimmer.

“Better think twice before you attack.” Stiles sing-song. “I have warded this room to the nines. If you so much as think about attacking my Alpha you’ll find yourself restrained before you can even blink.”

“Alpha Finnick.” Miakoda piped up. “Stand down.”

Instead of listening the Alpha got up to his feet. “I’m not afraid of an emissary’s words.” He leaped forward and Stiles barely narrowed his eyes as he called on his spark. The Alpha was suspended in the air, unable to move—except his mouth which he used to growl and spit threats.

The rest of the Alphas that attended jump up to the defense of their emissaries, but none dared to take a step forward towards Stiles. He laughed. It started as a chuckle until he was outright cackling and doubling over as he clutched at his stomach.

“Stiles, enough!” Peter roared. Stiles made a show recoiling. “Don’t aggravate the situation, don’t goad them on.” Peter approached him and placed a hand on his nape. “Go back to the corner. They understand the need for this council, this won’t take long.” Peter whispered it but Stiles is sure that the other werewolves in the room heard him.

“He was thinking of hurting you.”

“And, you’ve stopped him efficiently. Relax now, darling—there would be no more threats.” Peter added the last part pointedly to the rest of the people in the room. Stiles sneered at the Alphas before walking back to the corner and stare out of the window. “Moving our discussion forward…”

Stiles listen as they continue with the Summit, certain that the fact that he’s a Spark will be circling before the Summit is even over.

* * *

Peter watched as the Alphas and emissaries try to calm themselves down after the show of power Stiles had given them. The Alphas would throw a look at where Stiles is standing, now and then some were careful with their words. While others were quick to retract whatever might be construed as an insult.

He had studied every werewolf pack days before the Summit, and although there have been changes over the years, there are still familiar faces. Those Alphas that had known him as the Hale Left Hand kept quiet and listened carefully to his proposal. The newer ones—especially from up and coming packs, straining their patience keeping themselves from snapping at him.

They took a two-hour break for the Alphas and their Emissaries to discuss with themselves, along with the other Alphas present, if they would want to be a part of the new world that Stiles is creating.

The thought should have made him pause, but it didn’t. He was never an altruistic person, he cares for a few people. And, he can honestly say that even if he does care, it doesn’t mean he’ll be willing to give up his life—he’s not even entertaining the idea of giving up his comfort for other people. He cares for his pack though, bone-deep and true. If someone will ask him the length he’s willing to go for his pack, he’d say he’ll burn for them the second time around. He’ll gladly set himself aflame for Stiles.

It is so easy to devote himself to the young Spark—easier than devoting himself to his sister. Perhaps it’s because he can see the same devotion from the rest of the pack. Perhaps it’s because Stiles devotes himself to Peter just as much—Peter would even dare say more. Perhaps it’s the trust that Stiles had given him.

Whatever reason, whatever rhyme, it matters very little now. Peter stands at the precipice of change that his pack had herald. Whatever decision the pack Alphas would have, this day would go down in history.

The clearing of the forest was set to accommodate everyone invited to the Summit. Canopies were set up along with tables and chairs. The food was bountiful and each smelled as good as they look. There were members of the Dakotah pack walking to and fro, standing in guard.

Peter, along with Stiles and Newt, approached a table where their pack is. Minho was wearing a wicked smile, eyes flashing at Isaac before throwing his head back and laughing. Gally smacked him at the back of his head but Minho continued laughing. Frypan was trying to fight off a smile, but he was failing.

Newt sighed beside him. “I don’t even want to know.”

Stiles sat close next to him, and Peter let their shoulders touch. The Spark waved his hand in the air before speaking. “How’s the rest of the Dakotah pack treating you?”

Peter scented the uptick of ozone, it was gone as soon as he smelled it. The sound around them was garbled, but speaking voices can still be heard. He can only guess that it’s another privacy ward.

“They’re nice,” Frypan said. “And their kitchen is massive—they have five ovens there.”

“They have a lot of humans in their pack,” Isaac added. “Some of them are part of the patrol teams.”

Peter can see the telltale sign of what role Isaac wants in the pack. He looked up at Gally and silently inquired of what he thinks of it by merely raising an eyebrow. Gally shrugged at him and Peter shook his head lightly from side to side. He thought, with Gally’s over-protectiveness, that he wouldn’t let Isaac even get a paper cut.

“Their Right Hand has a stick up his butt,” Minho said. “I thought Gally and Ahiga were going to brawl it out but then they turned their focus on me and Akecheta.”

“Well, it was worrying to see that you got along with their Left Hand.” Gally countered. “The trouble the two of you can get into…” Gally let his sentence trail off. Somehow, Peter was able to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” Minho had a playful smile on his face. “And there’s this one girl who’s been eyeing Isaac—“

“Minho!” Isaac’s blush goes from his ears to his face and neck. Peter almost feels bad for the pack human but he also knows that teasing is Minho’s way to show that he cares.

“Now that we got that out of the way, how’s Beacon Hills?” Peter takes the time to ask about their territory every time he gets together with his pack. The werewolves of his pack would inform him of their patrols around the preserve. Newt and Stiles will give him a rundown of their progress with their magic and whatever else project they have.

Stiles drummed his fingers on the table before speaking. “Good news is that we finally found a ritual that we can use to cleanse the Nemeton—thanks to your gift.”

“I’m happy that the book has been useful.” He tried to keep the preening to a minimum.

“We would need you, Stiles, and a warrior that has been protecting Beacon Hills for the last decade for the ritual to work,” Newt informed him. “Once we’re done with the Summit, we’ll be preparing for the ritual—better to get it done right away. The land is badly in need of cleansing.”

“A warrior can mean anyone who has been in the police service or any law enforcement,” Stiles added. “So, my suggestion is my Dad. It’s only logical—we will be informing him of the Supernatural anyway.”

“I can see your point.” Peter conceded. “I know we’ve originally allotted six months for this part of our plan, and it’s only been four months, the pack house wouldn’t be finished for another month.” He informed them. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay at your place for the time being.”

“You can have Tommy’s room,” Newt told him as his brows knitted at the center of his forehead. He flickered his wand and the noise around them became sharper. Peter can only guess that someone is about to approach them.

He turned his head with his charm on and saw the Alpha of the Alfaro Pack walking towards their table. Peter found it strange that an Alpha from another country would ask to be invited to the Summit. But then again, the Alfaro pack has an alliance with the Ward Pack. Ancy must have said something to the Venezuelan Alpha.

“Alpha Hale.” The man greeted him formally. “I am Javier Alfaro, Alpha of the Alfaro Pack. It is an honor to be a part of this Summit.”

“The honor is all mine, Alpha Alfaro.” He respectfully stood up and shook the man’s hand. Peter gestured to the teens on the table. “This is the current Hale Pack.”

“I’ve heard how your pack came to be from Alpha Ward.” Alfaro put just enough sympathy in his voice that it didn’t sound pitying. “You have taken tragedy and turned it into a new beginning. You can be certain that you have the support of the Alfaro Pack in your endeavor of unifying the Supernatural and Magical community.”

“It wouldn’t be possible without my pack.” Peter humbled himself in the face of the Alpha. Plus, it’s the truth.

“Besides offering our support, we also came to you for another reason.” Peter put his serious face on after hearing that. “Years ago, around the time after the Hale Fire, the Left Hand of my pack stumbled upon a young werewolf as they journey back home.” Alpha Alfaro took a step to the side and Peter saw a teenage girl standing behind the man.

Brown hair framing a small face, highlighting equally brown eyes—painfully familiar, bearing resemblance of his sister. Peter unconsciously took a step forward. His mind’s eyes replayed the last time he saw those same eyes, looking at him with palpable fear and confusion. He opened his mouth to utter a name he hasn’t dare say in years. “Cora…”

Tears quickly filled the corners of her brown eyes. “Uncle Peter.” She said his name in the same broken way she did when he forced her to run. “Uncle Peter.”

Peter blinked and closed the distance between them. He enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug, knowing that she’ll be able to take it. “You survived.” He muttered in an awed and thankful voice. “You’re alive.”

Cora clung to him. “I felt every bond snap. I thought I was alone—the only one who survived.”

He placed a distance between the two of them. He caged her face between his hands. “What do you mean?” He asked her. “Laura and Derek—they’re alive.”

“What?” Cora was surprised. “Where—where are they?”

“Oh, Cora.” Peter decided that now is not the time or place to talk about her brother and sister. “We’ll talk about them later. For now…tell me how you got out of Beacon Hills, and how you got here. Niece, I’ve missed you so.”

That was enough to make Cora cry even harder. He hugged her once more, turning them away from any possible spectator. Peter saw his pack quietly observing them, his eyes met Stiles’s. The Spark was wearing a bitter-sweet smile on his face.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is where the...uhm...hmm...Oh! Home is where the pack is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! First chapter of the year. I'm writing like a crazy person just in case my days will become busy. Plus, I think the muse had let me take a peek where they want to take the story. Thank you to everyone that took the chance to read this story. I never thought that it will be this long, honestly I have a feeling this one will be the longest story I will write. I doomed myself basically. Also, thanks to all the comments giving love to Chris/Newt pairing. Lets freaking root for them!
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, I do proofread but sometimes mistakes still gets pass me. Please, pardon them. On to the story...

Cora couldn’t believe her eyes. Her Uncle Peter standing before her, hugging her, and saying her name. They held onto each other, trying to reassure themselves that what they’re seeing is real.

Her Uncle’s pack made room for her at their table. Looking around, she can see that his pack is around her age. Remembering what Javier had told her, she guiltily thought herself lucky since she isn’t completely orphaned by the fire.

Peter introduced her to his pack. Cora remembered their name easily and know that despite their age and appearance, each of them is formidable—some more than others. The Right and Left Hand seemed friendly compared to the pack emissary. Though each of them is welcoming her warmly enough.

She recalled Javier telling her that word of the Hale emissary being a Spark is going around. Looking at the teenage boy with a short hair-cut, she can’t say he’s powerful. Still, she knows how looks can be deceiving.

She sat next to Peter as she told him everything that happened to her after he helped her escape the fire. Peter listened to her attentively, asking questions now and then, but mostly listening to her. She told him about her journey across the country, and how she was picked up by the Left Hand of the Alfaro Pack. Cora didn’t bother with the details of how she was living in Venezuela. She went on ahead and told him about being called by their Alpha and being informed of the new Hale Pack.

A part of Cora’s disbelief doesn’t only lie in finding out that her Uncle is still alive. Some of it is in the fact that Peter is doing something to avenge their former pack—their family. And, along the way, any other werewolf packs that had suffered under the hands of Hunters that don’t follow the code. It may not be in the common werewolf way, but she can see how Peter’s proposal would affect the whole Supernatural community and the Hunter community. Her Uncle had always been the one to think ahead.

Cora can see it—the rise of the fallen Hale Pack. She does not doubt that her Uncle will be able to bring back the glory of their name. She desperately wants to be a part of it—to be a part of the Hale Pack once again, to be proud of her name again.

“Where’s Laura and Derek?” She asked once again, more insisted this time, wanting her Uncle to know that she's not taking 'no' for an answer this time. She doesn’t understand why the two would leave when their Uncle is working hard for their family name.

She saw Peter hesitate for a second. The older werewolf took in a deep breath before speaking. “You remember that they weren’t inside the house when the fire started.”

Cora nodded her confirmation. “I thought the Hunters outside of the house got them.”

Peter shook his head lightly. “They were in Derek’s game, and got to the…scene of the crime late.” He paused, letting Cora processed that information. “After…the passing of your mother, the Alpha Spark was passed on to your sister. They had me confined in a hospital and they—they went away.”

“Wha—what’d you mean went away?” Cora’s brows furrowed.

“They left Beacon Hills.” Peter paraphrased. “They left and they haven’t returned.”

Cora sat still in her seat. She can feel Peter running his hand up and down her arm, trying to comfort her. But, all Cora feels is numbness.

Her sister was an Alpha and she broke her ties with them. Cora knows that Laura and Peter never got along—not the same way as their Uncle and her brother, but Cora likes to think Laura wouldn’t neglect Peter like that. And, how about herself? Their bond shouldn’t have snapped—unless…She doesn’t want to think badly of her sister, but she knows that their bond snapped and it wasn’t done from her end.

“Why?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“I’d like to ask her the same question one day,” Peter said. “But, for now, I need to make sure the Hale Pack will stand strong—and our territory protected.” Cora let herself lean against her Uncle. “Will you be going back with me?” Peter asked her after a moment of silence. “We were just talking about our living arrangements since the Pack House isn’t complete yet. If you’re coming with me, I’m sure we’ll be able to find a place for you.”

Newt piped up. “There’s an attic we can turn into a room. I can extend its size according to her taste.”

“Problem solved.” Stiles smiled at her. “Easy.”

She stared at the other members of the pack. “You guys wouldn’t mind?”

“You’re Peter’s family.” Frypan pointed out the obvious.

“Family is family.” Isaac’s tone was wistful.

“If he wants you as part of the pack, then you are,” Gally added.

“There’s no doubt he wants you as a pack.” Minho cheekily said.

She turned her eyes back to her Uncle. Like herself, he’s thankful for the pack’s easy acceptance. Though, it didn’t escape her notice how Stiles’s smile seems to be fraying at the corners. She doesn’t know why but he’s not showing any signs that it’s because of her. She thought that it’s probably because of what happened to their former pack. People always got lonely when they hear about it.

Cora grabbed her Uncle’s hands. “I want to be a part of what you’re doing. I want the Hale Pack strong again.”

Peter pulled her once again into an embrace. She felt him kissed the crown of her head. “I won’t let you down, Cora.”

“You should probably take her with you on your travel back to Beacon Hills, instead of having Newt apparate her,” Stiles suggested. “It would be highly suspicious if she just appeared out of nowhere.”

“You should also talk to Alpha Alfaro about her school papers,” Newt added and Cora had to frown at him for that. “You look to be around our age. If Peter didn’t force you to go to school, he’ll seem like a bad Uncle.”

“That can be arranged easily enough,” Peter said nonchalantly. “Don’t pester our reunion with mundane things.” Cora had to smile at how Peter is jokingly disregarding his pack’s concern. She held his hand tighter, remembering how Peter annoyed her mother with the same faked come-what-may tone.

* * *

The Alphas, along with their emissaries, were called back in the meeting hall. Peter left Cora with Fry and Isaac, as Newt and Stiles had to join Peter, while Gally and Minho went back to security duty. A simple exchange of gazes with Frypan and Newt was able to deliver his message—observe Cora closely. While Peter’s niece sounded genuine enough, Newt would still like to know if they’re going to have to take measures to be certain of her compliance.

Once back inside the meeting hall, they all took their respective seats. Tommy took the sit at Peter’s right, while Newt sat on the left. The Alphas grew tense now that Tommy is sitting close to them. There’s a sadistic gleam in Tommy’s eyes that got Newt wondering if his friend is still acting.

What would he even do if Tommy isn’t acting anymore? They have no time to go against each other. Newt isn’t even sure if he would even go against Tommy.

They never meant to be mean, but—as he has said before, they’re desperate. Desperation is such an ugly motivator. Still, what else is there?

He will let Tommy go on the way he wants to in front of these Alphas. He would even go and support him. In turn, he knows Tommy will have his back like the rest of them because that’s what they do—because they are all they have despite all the people surrounding them, and the people they want to have. Their memories of their distant future places a wall between the Gladers and the rest of the world.

Newt will focus his mind on the building of the werewolf council. He will keep track of the days for the cleansing of the Nemeton. He will teach Peter of the Wizarding ways, and write to influential wizards and witches for the introduction of the two communities to go as smoothly as possible. He’ll propose laws after laws for Supernatural creatures to be protected in the Wizarding World. He will spin webs around Allison and in turn the Hunters community. He fills his mind with ways to bring Chris Argent to a heel—to have Chris’s everything.

He will do that and more because if he doesn’t he will lie down on his bed at night with his memories taking the best of his mind enough for fear to set in. He needs his mind occupied. He needs to not leave it any room to remember the past—or future. As he mentioned, it depends on the perspective. He wonders if his memories will disappear once they’ve changed the future. He doesn’t know if he wants to or not. Tricky, tricky, he thought.

A female Alpha, well beyond her years, leaned on the table. She held command over the crowd, quiet and controlled yet no less effective. That alone shows that everyone in the room respects her and will listen to her willingly. That clued Newt in that she’s someone important.

“The Ito Pack had believed in non-confrontation when it comes to dealing with Hunters.” She said in her accented English. “We believe in doing no harm, and if there is a need to fight—not to kill unless necessary.” She paused, letting her words be absorbed by those around her. “I recognize that what we decide here will foster a change, and this change will be for us. I am certain because I remember you, Alpha Hale before the blood has been spilled.” She stared at Peter—seeing something in him that Newt can’t. “The Ito Pack stands by this unification.”

At her declaration, one by one, the Alphas voiced out their support.

“I am honored by your trust and support.” Peter humbly said with a slight incline of his head. “I shall do my best.” Alpha Ito merely nodded at his direction.

Upon making their decision, they move the discussion into how they will form the werewolf council. They talked about the details of the council. They talked about what positions there should be and who should occupy them. No one is keen on being a mere secretary, but they all concede that it is needed. They left the position of treasurer empty since they are not yet certain how they will fund the council at the moment. Alpha Dakotah took the position of communication officer and no one fought her for it since she has Peter’s backing. Overall, they covered all the important grounds before the night was over.

“May I request for the emissaries to stay behind,” Newt spoke up as the first day of the meeting ends. “I would like to discuss the contract for being a member of the council.” He noticed how some of the emissaries took in a deep breath. “Don’t worry, we’ll only be creating a rough draft. We will present them tomorrow to the Alphas and get their input then.” Newt pulled out a pad and quill. “Now, we should start with the most obvious one—keeping the Supernatural and Magical a secret.”

“It’s going to have sub-clauses.” Tommy piped up and it got everyone turning to him. “For when we need to tell someone.” He leaned forward on the table. “Pack members—obviously, those who have been bitten—whether accidentally or not, pack adjacent individuals—only if vetted thoroughly by the emissary and Alpha along with a background check coming from the police—“

“And, Aurors,” Newt added as he scribbled it all down. “Better to not let any stone unturned.”

“The purpose of the council.” The emissary of the Ito pack spoke up. “A body that would represent the supernatural werewolves to the Magical World.”

From there on out, the emissaries of each pack give voiced out their ideas for clauses and sub-clauses. Writing it all down, Newt knows that it will be long and will continuously be amended until each party is satisfied. That may take years, or may never happen at all—but as long as amendments are possible, there’s a chance everyone will get an equal footing in what they are creating.

Just before the clock strike midnight, Newt put a pause into their drafting of the contract. Everyone looked as weary as he felt. He sent everyone off to get a goodnight’s sleep, but he and Tommy stayed behind. They sat there quietly while the rest exit the room.

They let themselves bask at the moment.

* * *

They all flopped down on the sofa the moment they all entered the living room. It has been a tiring weekend for all of them. While it’s already late and Stiles needs to get home before his Dad notices that he isn’t, they’re still not completely done.

He took his warded notebook and opened it with a pen between his lips. Stiles flipped the pages till he got to the part wherein he wrote the events when the Alpha Pack arrived in Beacon Hills. Plucking the pen from his lips, he drew an asterisk on the side of Cora’s name.

The funny thing about changing the past is that you try your best to change something, and when the changes you made actually worked, you will be surprised how it can affect the rest. He leaned back on the sofa’s backrest and just…thought back about the Cora he met from before. Indignant beyond belief and so full of the need for revenge. He’s starting to guess that the revenge thing runs in the family—or is it just a supernatural werewolf thing.

Comparing that to the Cora he met now, Stiles would say hostage situations does a lot to a person’s character. She’s—strange to say, sweeter in a sense but there’s that fire to restore the glory of the Hale name that has been present even from before. She’s also less…emotionally stunted. Perhaps it’s because of the way Peter greeted her and treated her like he would treat the other members of their pack, with respect towards their maturity.

“This is a bigger change than just postponing other people’s arrival here,” Stiles said to them.

“We went in knowing that we’d change a lot of things,” Newt said. “Giving Peter’s sanity back would have already affected the Alpha Pack’s decision to come here or not.”

“They could have eyed Derek Hale because he’s young and inexperienced.” Gally pointed out.

“His history with manipulative people is also a point to that Deucalion guy. With Peter as the Alpha of Beacon Hills, they might still come here. The man’s reputation as the Hale Left Hand is something, they might think they can use that against him.” Minho added.

Stiles nodded at Minho’s direction. “I was thinking of the same thing.” He admitted. “The question now is if we’re enough to make him stay.”

“Not us,” Frypan said to him. “Only you.”

“What do you mean? It’s us.”

“Let’s not play stupid now, Tommy.” Newt chided him lightly. “I may stand a chance because of my resources, but his connection to you is…visceral.”

“How were the two of you from before anyway?” Gally asked.

“I was the…pack researcher, I suppose you can say. He’s the pack informant since he just knows more than the rest of us.” Stiles didn’t realize that he’s wearing a faraway look on his face. “I wasn’t keen on spending so much time with him because he’s crazy and he creeps me the hell out. But over time, we…got along, I guess.”

He rubbed his nape before continuing. “He mocks me and respects me in equal measure that it made it hard to know which way is up and which way is down. He complains but he’s there when I need help. He was always there up until he wasn’t.”

“What made him…stop being there?” This time it was Minho who asked.

Stiles swallowed hard. “His daughter.”

He looked up at his friends. Frypan was wearing an understanding expression. Gally didn’t seem all that surprised. Minho was wearing a frown and staring at Newt. While Newt has a considering look on his face.

Remembering Malia…is bitter-sweet. There’s no other word for it, Stiles thinks. They tried. He tried to do right by her because of what happened to them, and she tried to do right by him. After gaining perspective from the years he had lived, he now understands why it just wasn’t enough.

He flipped the pages of his notebook to Malia’s page. He had long deemed they have no time for Lydia’s teenage drama. He’s not certain if they have time for Malia’s adjustments to being human again, but they don’t have the luxury of merely living her as a coyote in their territory.

A part of him is afraid. Peter is a different man with Malia around. He didn’t ever try to father her, but he was there for her. One call and he’s by her side, come hell or high water. Peter would go as far as protecting people Malia loves despite what he feels for them. Malia never saw through Peter’s façade, though. She never saw how devoted Peter was to her.

But, Stiles can see it. He can see how devoted Peter is to the people he cares about. Hell, he already had a taste of it. He doesn’t want to let go of it. It’s a selfish thought. He’s not sure what to do about it. That’s not entirely true. He knows what he wants to do about it, he just doesn’t know if he should. No, wrong again. He knows what he wants to do about it, he just knows he shouldn’t because it’s wrong.

They’ve already done so many wrong things. What’s another tally on the board? He asks himself, staring intently at Malia’s name on the paper.

“Peter has a cousin.” He started. “Closer to Talia’s age.”

“Are you sure about this?” Minho’s tone isn’t judging but it was deadly serious.

“She never considered Peter as her father.” He said to them. “It would save Peter from—“

“Don’t bullshit us, Greenie.” Gally didn’t sound angry. “You can pull that on others, but not us—never us. You start doing that to us, we’ll fall apart. We can’t afford that.”

“Peter cares about his nieces and nephew, but he cared differently about Malia. Whether she would distract him from what we’re doing, I don’t know but I’m not taking chances.” He explained. “Besides that, I’m not willing to let go of my hold on him. It’s an asshole move and I’ll do it because I’m just that…selfish.” He finished lamely.

“Aren’t we all?” Frypan asked rhetorically.

“A stronger hold on Peter will assure us that he won’t move against with the Alpha Pack—if they ever come.” Newt piped up. “If turning his daughter into his niece would help, might as well.” They made eye contact. "I'll look for something."

They shouldn’t—really, but Stiles isn’t a good person. He isn’t even sure if he ever was. "Thank you."

* * *

Peter caught himself staring at Cora. It seemed like his niece has always been aware, judging from the slow smile that formed on her lips. She looked at him with understanding.

He doesn’t know who to thank. Mother moon, his lucky stars, or Stiles and Newt for healing his unstable mind. He knows that if he had been insane, he wouldn’t be standing before Cora as she says her goodbyes to the Alpha Javier.

Peter doesn’t like to think about it, but he can admit that he would have been dead by now if he woke up from his catatonic state with every bit of insanity that he had. It could be from the hands of a Hunter or another Supernatural, it doesn’t matter. He will be a danger and must be put down like a rabid dog.

Alpha Javier and Cora walked towards him. Peter shook the hand of the other man, he had promised Javier that the Hale Pack would be there if they ask for help. Javier accepted it with a smile and told him that they have taken in Cora simply because it was the right thing to do. Peter doubts that but he knew better than to voice out his suspicions.

He took Cora’s bag from his hand, and she rolls her eyes at him but didn’t take it back. Peter knows that she will indulge his mother-henning for a while—and only a while. He can tell that his niece had grown up to be a very independent individual and Peter will never hinder her development.

In leaving Beacon Hills, Peter thought it more appropriate to use trains as transportation. It’s faster, and he would have enough time to read about the packs he’s visiting or put a dent on the books Newt had given him. Now that he has Cora with him, he decided that it will be better if they drive back.

With his connections, it’s easy for him to buy a car. He also didn’t have to worry about his license. He had all of his identification cards fixed a week before he even left the long term ward in Beacon Hills. All he is thinking about now is how he’s going to earn money. They’re not really in need of it, but it would look suspicious if he doesn’t have a job. He’s thinking of something that would endear him further to the public of Beacon Hills. He has to make sure that his new pack wouldn’t suffer the same fate as his former one.

Peter put Cora’s bag in the trunk of the car, along with his. She gave him the signature Hale judgmental eyebrows at the rucksack he placed next to her bag. “It has books.” He merely said.

“Why do you need to bring books when you’re traveling all around?” The two of them move to get inside the car.

“Newt gave me books about the Wizarding World.” He answered as he started the engine of the car. “He doesn’t want me to go in front of the Wizarding court without the basic knowledge of their culture and etiquette. He might even call for his cousin to teach me some of their law relating to our case.”

Cora was quiet for a moment before she finally decided to speak up. “There have been talks about your new pack.” She started slowly. “Some say that everyone there is mean—which after meeting Frypan and Isaac, I don’t believe. But…but they also talk about your emissary, not many people have a lot of nice things to say about him—except that he’s fond of kids.”

“Ah, yes.” He couldn’t help but smile upon remembering Stiles performing magic in front of the younger members of the Dakotah Pack. “Stiles has a soft spot for kids.”

“What is his deal, anyway? He got most of the Alphas freaked out, and the emissaries either want to kiss the ground he walks on or cut him in half.”

“I don’t think Stiles would let any of them get close to him enough to cause harm.”

Cora turned to him with a huff. “You’re deflecting.”

He smiled. “Am I?”

“Uncle Peter,” Cora whined the same way when she was still seven and too curious for her own good.

“So impatient still.” He teased lightly. “Well, since you are going to be part of the pack, I guess it wouldn’t hurt for you to know. The overall…meanness that the pack projects is just that—projection. We don’t have much in number, and though we have powerful magic users, we know that if we don’t make ourselves appear intimidating the other packs won’t take our proposal seriously.”

“So, it’s all…an act to make people listen?” Cora’s face was one of confusion as she digests the information. “No one noticed?”

“The boys are quite talented in the art of intimidation—especially Gally. One would think he’s a Hale by blood with the way he works his eyebrows.” That statement got Cora snorting a laugh.

“Oh, God. You’re terrible.” She tucked a loose hair strand behind her ear. “What are they like then?”

“Well, Minho’s a little shit—he teases everyone every time. Gally’s solemn and serious, but melts around Isaac. Frypan—the sweetest of the bunch, really. Newt is the responsible one, he takes pride in making sure everything is going to go the way it’s supposed to in his eyes. And, Stiles…” He paused, not sure if there are enough words to encompass Stiles. “…he’s a bit of an old soul. He’s clumsy but determined, smart, and wise. He’s—“

“The love of your life.” Cora cut him off. “Just say it like it is, Uncle Peter. I don’t need you spouting poetry about his eyes and hair.”

Peter let out an exaggerated sigh. “I have a feeling you and Minho are going to get along just fine.”

Cora was wearing a serious expression as she speaks. “So, that part of the rumor is also true? You’re…courting him?”

“I am.” He confirmed. “You don’t have to worry about his virtue. We have discussed that we won’t be…intimate till his eighteenth birthday.”

“That’s good to know.” Cora nodded approvingly. Peter’s proud that she never lost her belief in him. “You’re an Alpha now, not just someone’s Left Hand. You have to do things the right way. Well, at least somewhat the right way.” She smiled cheekily at him.

He hummed beneath his breath. “Maybe I should enroll you in Beacon Hills for the last two months of the school year.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“You did remind me that I should do the right thing.” They continued to bicker and talk of lighter things as they drive back home to Beacon Hills.

* * *

Gally would sometimes wake up with phantom chest pains. He’d find himself opening his eyes in the morning and placing a hand over his chest. In the exact spot where the spear had pierced him.

It’s a strange thing. He doesn’t wake up gasping for breath—like Minho or screaming himself hoarse—like Newt. He doesn’t even wake up with tears in his eyes—like Frypan. He just opens his eyes and feels the pain spread from that one point, then throughout the entirety of his chest and torso.

The pain will stay the whole day and he would fight back the instinct of rubbing his chest in front of the others. He doesn’t want to alarm them. Especially Minho, because no matter how much he plays the fool, they all know better.

He doesn’t hold any grudge against the other Gladers. They did what they thought was right, and so did he. Their choices brought about consequences because such is life. One cannot live without the consequences of their action.

Gally gets up from his bed. The sunlight is peeking through the window curtain of his room. It’s another Monday and another opportunity to push their responsibilities aside for a chance to play-pretend.

The pain in his chest flares with each heartbeat and he just wants to curl himself around Isaac. He wants to inhale the scent of a faraway place. It wouldn’t stop the spreading pain, but it would remind him that he’s alive. It’s scary to think that sometimes he needs a reminder.

His wolf is more active during days such as this. Alert due to his internal turmoil, almost guiding him. It’s a welcome presence. He doesn’t want to remember the days wherein he didn’t have his wolf and Isaac. Those days leaves him too indifferent, so much so that he’s almost inhuman. That’s when he learned that feeling too much pain can render someone numb.

He got dressed for the day and headed to the kitchen. Just as he expected, Frypan was already there with breakfast served and putting their lunches in containers. Minho has a music sheet on the table and scribbles while eating, while Newt seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. As if on cue, the front door opened and close, Thomas walked in with his phone in hand. The Spark seemed collected enough, but his scent gives away his anxiety. Newt hasn’t taught Thomas how to hide his scent from them. Gally’s secretly thankful for that.

“Peter says that he and Cora are driving back here,” Thomas informed them as he joined them on the table. “With the stops, they’d be here a day after tomorrow.”

“We can extend the walls and the ceiling of the attic.” Newt runs a hand over his face and hair. “It will be an opportunity for you to also learn about the extendable charms. As for her bed, we can transfigure something for her for the night. I’m sure Peter would buy Cora her bed and everything else.”

“Sounds reasonable enough,” Thomas said to him.

“You’re going to have to talk to Peter about how much information he can share with Cora,” Gally said before drinking from his mug.

“It’s better if we keep the Argent’s involvement in the fire,” Minho suggested. “We can fake a genuine reaction once that is revealed, but we’re not sure how…talented she is in faking it.” He almost grimaced at that last part.

“It would certainly keep her from hating Allison,” Frypan said with a light snort. “We’ll be able to foster some kind of friendship between them before all hell breaks loose.”

Newt was wearing a small frown. “Tommy, remind me again, how did Allison found out about her hunter lineage?”

Thomas’s expression is very encouraging. “Kate kidnapped and tortured Derek, and showed that to Allison while advising her not to tell her parents.”

“Is there any other way Allison would find out?” Newt asked.

Thomas was quiet for a moment. They all know how protective Chris is, and how much the man despises the thought of Allison being involved in Hunter's business. “I…I don’t know.”

At least Greenie didn’t bullshit them, Gally thought. “It’s a point to us if Kate revealed it to her that way.” He voiced out. “Here we are, living peacefully with humans, then she sees her crazy aunt that kidnapped a Supernatural and is torturing them.”

“Allison doesn’t know Derek.” Frypan pointed out. “Kate might weave some story about Derek being the bad guy. Allison isn’t all that…accepting of being contradicted.”

“Sometimes…” Minho shoved the music sheet in his bag. “…I wonder why we even try.” He sighed. “I’ll get myself captured along with Derek. That way Allison will know we’re not the bad juju.”

“Wouldn’t it be more effective if it was me?” Frypan asked.

“She’ll lose her cool if it was you,” Gally explained. “Also, Kate might see that as an opportunity to turn Allison into someone like her.” A crazy chic that seduces teens then sets their families aflame.

“Kate Argent is a nightmare enough for the world.” Newt half-joked. “Let’s not add another one.”

“Besides, I already have experience in torture,” Minho said nonchalantly.

“All the more reason for you not to do it?” Thomas half asked and half stated.

“I’m a glass-half-full kind of guy,” Minho said. Gally couldn’t help the snort that escaped his nose at that one.

“They’re going to tie you in some sort of metal and have that wired to a generator,” Thomas said to Minho. “They’re going to electrocute you—probably cut you some and beat you a lot. I’m not saying this to scare you. I want you to be aware of what you might experience under the hand of that particular Argent.”

Minho was quiet for a moment, considering Thomas’s words. What he said next, Gally didn’t expect. “Which Argent got you?”

All eyes were on Thomas. “Gerard.” He all but hissed the man’s name. “Chris tried to rough me up, but he wasn’t cruel enough to hurt a teenager—not the same way as Gerard. The bastard was ready to kill just to get what he wants.”

“I think electricity is a downgrade from what we experience firsthand in WCKED.” Minho simply said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to handle it.”

Gally thought about the possible consequences of this decision. He can see Thomas and Newt fraying bit by bit with each decision they make. While he, Minho, and Frypan remain resolute through it all. Then he remembers that the three of them are werewolves.

Does that make them monsters? He doesn’t believe so. He just thinks that they’re more accepting of their primal urges. They’re learning not to be beholden by the non-magical societal expectations and the same can’t be said with Thomas and Newt. He wonders if there’s something they can do about it. He has a feeling that the two would have a breakdown if they won’t be able to completely accept themselves—the good, the bad, and the dirty.

* * *

They have a rough plan for how their week is going to go. Stiles tried not to heave a sigh at that. They would give Peter and Cora a day to get settled once they return. Then, Newt would be taking Peter to MACUSA on the weekend, and a week after, they’d be explaining everything to his Dad. He hasn’t had a lick of an idea how he’s going to do the big reveal this time around. God, it would help if Peter didn’t faint the same way Cora did. It sure helps that they’re not under immediate threat, but they have long decided that they will tell his Dad certain threats—also talk to him about some of his unsolved cases.

Due to the change in their timetable, he would be completely taking over anything research-related. With school, teaching Stiles magic, and introducing Peter to the magical community—Newt wouldn’t have time to in his hands. Gally had already stepped forward with handling the distribution of daily chores, and Minho’s handling the finances with Frypan assisting them both. If there’s one thing Stiles can be thankful towards WCKED for, it’s teaching them management of their daily lives.

Newt’s initial plan was to introduce the Supernatural to the Magical during the summer, that way he has more time in his hands and it will be his main focus. Still, they’re looking at the adjusted timetable as a boon. The two of them may have to work double-time, but neither of them is bothered by it. It lessens Stiles’s fretting and distracts Newt from his personal project.

His Dad’s schedule for the week would make it easier for him to talk to Noah. He already has half an excuse as to why he wants to invite his friends over for dinner. Though, he’s thinking of just…telling his Dad that they need to talk to him—that he needs to talk to him.

It feels like he’s been lying around the clock that his tongue is starting to feel heavy. He tells that part of him to fuck off. He will keep on telling it to fuck off till he is sure that the world wouldn’t crumble anymore.

Another thing that Stiles considers to be a boon is that he was a…somewhat diligent student even before. Having remembered most of what he learned helped him breezed through his subjects and assist the Gladers in their homework. He’s thankful for his ability to twist words in a way that suits him. Now, he can write the same essay in five different ways.

He’s saving all his progress with Frypan’s essay when an email alert popped up at the corner of his laptop. Stiles’s got his game face on the moment he saw who was the email from. He had been dreading a change in the schedule wherein he would receive an email from whoever this is. He tries to tell himself to not be too pessimistic, then he has to remind himself that not everything will work their way no matter how hard they try to.

He opened the email—scanning and then reading it over twice just to be sure. He leaned back on his chair and let his arms fall to his side. Peter is not going to like this.

The person who sent the email just alerted Peter’s supposed nurse about Derek and Laura’s movement in New York. They were informing the nurse that the siblings have been making arrangements to move, but they haven’t got the location to where the two would move. They’re asking for confirmation that Peter is still in his catatonic state and if there’s a new pack in the area.

Two things were made clear in Stiles’s mind; one, the hunters had been monitoring Derek and Laura for years. That means Kate knew she didn’t quite finish her job, she might be buying time or waiting for an opportunity to further hurt Derek. Honestly, Stiles wouldn’t be surprised. Two, the hunters have no idea that the werewolf packs are gearing to face them in an unorthodox manner. They can be certain with the alliances they have created with the council.

He PrintScreen the email and printed it, folding it to fit inside the warded notebook that he has. He’s going to have to show that to Peter when he’s back. Also, think of a way to calm the man from going berserk, because Peter may hate Laura and Derek for abandoning him but he’d still burn the world for the family.

Stiles wrote a short email confirming that Peter is still in his catatonic state and that there hasn’t been any werewolf pack in the area, but he added that he’ll keep an extra eye out. He reread it, making sure that it follows the same cadence the nurse used before hitting send. The jig is almost up at this front. The hunters will soon realize that they have been compromised and Kate would come back guns a-blazing.

They have a lot to prepare and there's very little information on how much time they have. It’s so like Sourwolf to throw a wrench in their plan, Stiles thought with a dark chuckle. He wonders how he would fare seeing that grumpy face again. Despite all of Derek’s faults, he’s also one of the very few people who have faith in Stiles. He wishes he can save the man from the torture, though he’s sure he’d save Derek from Julia Baccari.

The wards of the house told him that his Dad had arrived home. Stiles closed up his laptop and headed down. He’ll make something quick and healthy for their dinner while his Dad changes into more comfortable clothes.

He’s humming the song that he and Minho have been recreating as he ready all the ingredients that he needs. He was using the spatula as a mic and shaking his booty the way Minho had shamelessly taught him. Though, he wishes that Minho wouldn’t only recreate songs from female artists because he’s going to have to recreate a few songs himself if that would be the case. It’s nice to find pockets of fun and normality every once and a while—especially in their situation.

“Well, at least someone had a good day,” Noah said instead of a greeting.

“We’ve been making songs.” He explained. “Minho’s determined with that one, he’s starting to ask Gally or Fry to teach him how to play guitar. He already asked me to teach him how to play drums.”

Noah’s wearing a small smile. “Already writing original songs, wow.”

Stiles knows that his Dad isn’t keen on him joining law enforcement. The older man had said it back then but still supported him in his decision. Now, Noah’s being supportive of his non-existent music career. “It’s nothing big, Dad.” He said as he finishes off the veggie stir fry. “Besides, it’s not like we’d be performing the songs.” He’s not even sure what career he’d have this time around, being an emissary is starting to seem like a twenty-four-seven kind of job.

Noah moved to set the table. “You never know. You might be invited by other schools to play in their events.”

He rolled his eyes at his Dad as they sat down for their meal. “By the way, I’m inviting the rest of the guys for dinner next week. We have something to tell you.” His Dad raised an eyebrow at that. “Something…important.”

“Should I call the kids’ lawyer? Or should I look to hiring one for you?”

“Nothing drastic.” He winced at that. He’s half sure that Supernatural and magic is somewhat drastic. “Just…don’t worry too much about it and—try to keep an open mind.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“Hey, give us a break. We’re working on a schedule here.” With that, his Dad let the topic go for the night. Trust between them still as strong as ever.

* * *

Cora read the Beacon Hills welcome sign as her Uncle drives past it. She rolled down the window and let the smell of woods and fresh leaves greet her. The sun was overhead, and the warmth was welcomed. She has been away for so long that homecoming felt like a distant dream to her.

A scent of happiness was coming from her Uncle, it was hidden under the smell of contentment. She turned to Peter and saw him wearing a smile on his face—not the same smile that he uses to charm people, but a genuine one. It shows a softer side of Peter that not everyone is privy to.

Peter made no detours and Cora was glad for it. They have been inside the car for hours, she’s starting to feel restless. She half wonders if she’d be able to run around the preserve by night time. She’d be sure to ask later.

Cora watched as the scenery change from rows of lush trees, to the more industrialized area, to the school and suburbs, until they reach the part wherein there seem to be a large gap between houses. It’s not close to where their former house pack was once standing before, but she can see the benefit of living in a less populated area. It seemed like they don’t have a neighbor for miles away.

Peter parked his car in front of an unassuming house—a very 40’s household with the exterior, in Cora’s opinion. They both got out of the car and saw the door of the house opening. The boys greeted them with party hats. Cora found it in herself to laugh because of their antics. Gally looked sullen despite the red and white stripe cone hat he has on.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Peter said as he collects their bags from the trunk. “We weren’t expecting a grand reception.”

“Welcome back!” Stiles was doing jazz hands and Minho was blowing a party horn. “Of course there would be a get-together—albeit a small one. Hales will have a grand welcoming soon enough.” His smile was mischievous enough, but it lacked the sharpness he had during the Summit.

Cora wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she’s sure that her Uncle knows, she’s nervous about living with the new pack. In the former Hale pack, she had always been secure in her position in the pack. She’s the youngest child of the Alpha, Derek would have been Laura’s Right Hand and in turn, Cora would have been the Left Hand. In the Alfaro pack, she found simple acceptance. There were no expectations for her there. Here, she knows that Minho is the Left Hand and Gally’s the Right Hand. Peter hasn’t said anything to her if he would require anything of her, but she is willing to do whatever it is that her Uncle will ask her.

They walked inside the house, Frypan was quick in taking their bags from Peter—setting the bag aside and ushering them to the kitchen. Even from the doorway, Cora can already smell the hearty meal that was prepared for them. Upon seeing the dining table, she couldn’t help but salivate.

“Food first before anything else,” Frypan told everyone.

They all settled around the table, it was a tight fit but none seemed to mind. Peter was sitting at the head of the table, Gally at the other end. It got her brows furrowing a bit but she did not comment. On Peter’s right was Stiles, at his left Newt. On Gally’s end, it was Frypan on his right and Isaac on his left. Cora decided to sit next to Newt and Minho was left to sit next to Stiles.

They started digging in. Frypan sat proudly on his seat when appreciative moans were heard all around. Cora’s eyes widen and she was nodding as she chews on how good the food was. Frypan has every reason to preen, she thought.

“So…” Newt called for Peter’s attention as he swallows a bite. “We have the attic ready—walls and ceiling extended to better accommodate her. For her bed, I transfigured something for the night. I’m sure you’ll be buying her what is needed for her room.”

“Thank you for that, Newt,” Peter said.

Newt merely shrug. “It wasn’t much, plus it was a learning experience for Tommy.”

“We’ve also figured out how we’re going to do things while Newt is busy with you in MACUSA,” Stiles answered.

Cora doesn’t get the different names being used on their emissary, but it was once said to her that names have powers. And, power Stiles have by the tons—she wouldn’t be surprised why he’s careful with his name. Though, she does wonder how she should address him. From what she had heard—despite Peter’s reassurances, she doesn’t want to offend the magic-user.

“So, you’d be going to MACUSA during the weekends.” Stiles started. “That gives you the weekdays to arrange everything you need in the mundane world. I’m taking over all the researches, Gally over the chores distribution, Minho household finances, and Frypan would be assisting whoever needs assisting.”

“I’ve already sent a letter to Lord Potter, he’d be expecting us—and my cousin will also be with us since he’s more knowledgeable of the Wizarding laws of America,” Newt added. Now, their position at their dining table made sense to Cora. “Lord Potter is going to bring his Godson along. He’s not expecting that we accommodate him right away since the house pack isn’t built yet. He also gave his congratulations on the creation of the Werewolf Council, and that he’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Then, next weekend, we’ll be heading to my place to tell my Dad everything,” Stiles said.

Peter turned to him with contemplation in his eyes. “Everything?”

“From Supernatural, the Magical, the guys being somewhat Supernatural ambassadors, me being a Spark, the Nemeton needing cleansing, and the courtship.”

“Are you sure about the courtship?” Peter asked.

Stiles nodded. “I already dropped a hint back then about 'liking' an older guy. He wouldn’t be so surprised, but he might shoot you—don’t worry, its ordinary bullets.” He added the last part for Cora’s sake.

“You have everything under control, as always.” Peter praised.

“Other things relating to…” Stiles paused, careful with the next word he would utter. “…pack business should be discussed in private—not to offend you guys, but Alpha and emissary thing.” There were noises of understanding all around and Cora herself understands. Fortunately, everyone is even aware of the identity of their emissary—unlike in the former Hale Pack. “On a happier note, Saturday is Newt’s birthday! He’s officially legal by the non-magical standard.”

The conversation was then diverted to how Newt would celebrate his birthday. The pack didn’t act as if she’s a new member. They just went on as if she had always been there. They made conversation that she can easily join in. It was obvious that they aren’t expecting much from her, though. It saddens her a bit, but she told herself that she’s also a stranger to them. She’d have to prove herself to be trustworthy. After all, anybody can be family but not everyone can be pack.

* * *

There’s a lot attached to a name—especially his. Goldstein equates to unrelenting determination and Auror lineage because, even though his grandmother’s line had never been rich, they had served the public with their lives. Lovegood equates to wisdom beyond their years despite their age, the love for the strange, the welcoming warmth for those who had been turned away, and strength when called for the protection of innocent lives. Finally, Scamander equates to heroism to people and creatures alike, assurance in their ability, and willingness to do the right thing when the situation calls for it.

It’s difficult not to buckle under that pressure.

In Hogwarts, he was content to be the youngest Scamander. The one people don’t pay much attention to because his brothers were taking the Wizarding World by storm with their demands for law reforms for Magical Creatures. Most don’t expect anything from him other than follow his parents’ footsteps which isn’t a bad thing, in his opinion.

It is different now. He’s going to walk in MACUSA, carrying a name that is cemented in American Wizarding History and people will expect him to either be a replica of his grandfather or a pale imitation of him. No offense to his grandfather, but Newt wants to be his person. He doesn’t want to be another Newton Artemis Fido Scamander—because there’s only one of those. He wants to be Newton Xenophilius Ulf Scamander. And, he knows it sounds stupid—maybe.

He’s no Gryffindor or Slytherin, his desire to be seen as his person doesn’t come from an ambitious place wanting glory. It’s just…he’s a Hufflepuff. He believes merits should be given where it is due. He can’t be forever compared to his grandfather—he can’t do that to himself.

“You’re worrying.” Tommy broke the silence. The Spark is setting up a Skype account for him so that he can talk to his cousin as if it’s a floo call. Newt doesn’t think that it will be like a floo call simply because there is no fireplace.

“A lot is riding on this.” He answered honestly. “I’m afraid to be compared to my grandfather, they might expect me to find solutions the same way that he does, and we both know we don’t have that luxury.”

Tommy stared at him for a moment. “I don’t know your grandfather, I only know of him. He seemed to be a…pacifist.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

“I’m just not completely right.”

“Grandfather understands that sometimes killing is necessary—a creature in pain or a human who had spread pain. Still, he never lost his…softer predilection in life.” Newt explained. “In some ways, we’re the same, but I don’t believe he will think the two murders we’ve committed can be counted as a necessity in his perspective.”

“We both know that everything boils down to perspective,” Tommy said pointedly. “The person who you want these…wizards to see depends on you. If you don’t want to be seen as your grandfather’s double, then don’t. Let them see what they want to see—it’s the same thing we’ve been doing with these werewolf packs, just because they know your last name it doesn’t mean they know you—the very core of you.”

Newt took in Tommy’s words.

The very core of him—he thinks about it. He’s a wizard of the Glade. The very last Wizard standing amidst a world beyond repair. His mastery in magic wasn’t honed in the safety of a classroom, nor under the careful eyes or a mentor. It was strengthened through harsh environments.

He has hate in his heart, and care in his mind. He has blood in his hands, and nurture between his lips. He has scars on his skin, and a vision in his sight.

Newt realized that he is far from the boy that was waiting for a life filled with contentment. After everything he’s been through, he can’t be compared to his grandfather. People will see it—he will make them see it.

Tommy set-up the Skype that he was talking about, and soon, Newt was looking at the face of his cousin. He couldn’t help but tilt his head to the side. “This is far from a floo call.” He said to Tommy.

“You said you can see the face of the people you’re talking to when you’re doing a floo call.” Tommy pointed at the screen. “See, face.”

Quin had the gall to chuckle at Tommy’s antics. ‘That’s true enough, but in floo calls—the fire takes the shape of the face of the person you are talking to.’

“I can’t decide if that’s weird or awesome.” Tommy voiced out. He straightened up. “Everything is set up now. This is the button to end the call—“Tommy pointed at the red circle using the—what he called, cursor arrow. “Holler if you need me.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” He said—a touch too meaningful.

“Anytime, Newtie.”

“Oh, Merlin, you make me want to strangle you.” Tommy laughed as he walked out of his room. He turned back his attention to his cousin. “Has the appointment been scheduled?”

‘Yes.’ Quin answered him. ‘The meeting will be held in the big hall—you know the one…’ Newt has no idea which one, but he nodded anyway. ‘…Every department heads will be there—except the Cleaning Department, I think. Since the Minister of Magic had a chat with our current president, there has been an undergoing investigation in the archives of the Body for Protection of Magical Species. Behind closed doors, there have been whispers of President Quahog being furious about the oversight with the Supernatural.’

“Did they find anything?”

‘So far, lists of family names and discontinued studies about shape-shifters of Native American descent.’

“What are the family names included?” Newt asked quickly. He has been banking on the possibility that the Hales are from the old families.

‘Nothing has been publicized.’ Quin told him with a small grimace. ‘The President won’t be making any statements until after the meeting.’ He paused for a minute. ‘It’s kind of a big deal—a Scamander and Potter walking the halls of Woolworth after years—decades practically.’

“If they’re expecting someone like our grandfather, they’re going to be disappointed.”

‘Nah.’ Quin got a happy expression on his face. ‘You’ve changed—it’s not a bad thing, the opposite. You’re surer of yourself. I can say that that’s the only similarity you have with granduncle Newt.’

* * *

Pale—pale skin turning pink right before his eyes, just under his hands. Chris moaned at the sight. He didn’t know colors could be so arousing before. He popped another button open and feasted on the nipples that were presented to him. A hand on his head, nails digging into his scalp, pulling him closer—it was unfortunate that he needed to breathe.

He ran his shaking hands over the neck, to the collar, chest, stomach, all the way to the navel. His touch worshipful, because it’s the only way you should touch a person that can drive you insane. He placed an open-mouthed kiss on the navel and heard a moan coming from above.

Chris looked up—light brown eyes were half-hidden under heavy eyelids. He kept his eyes on Newt as he started to remove the younger man’s pants. Even when he mouthed at the wet spot on Newt’s underwear. Newt called out frantically at him, the choked off moan was disturbed by an alarm.

Chris gritted his teeth and turned the alarm off with too much force. He scrubbed his face tensely as he lies on his bed. He can feel every fiber of his muscle, aware of just how hard he is under the cover of the bed.

It’s been a trying month. Chris still has been active in his avoidance of Newt. The dreams didn’t stop, and he’s thankful for it. It’s the only way he sees Newt that isn’t in passing. The increasing level of…intimacy had alarmed him before, now…He doesn’t even want to think about it even when it’s the only thing he sees when he closes his eyes.

That isn’t right. He does think about it, he just isn’t sure what to feel about it. Chris thinks about Newt more than he should. He thinks about parts of Newt that he wants to have a taste of. He thinks about the things he wants to do to Newt. It is seared inside his mind, taken permanent residency until he finds out how Newt will react to it.

He got up from his bed. Shower—he needs a cold, cold shower. Then, he’ll play the part of a father, a businessman, and a semi-retired hunter.

He thinks about touching himself, staring at his hard-on. There’s a part of him that says he shouldn’t, and another that says he should. He wouldn’t be having this mental debate if he wasn’t so torn about who he’s going to be thinking about. Chris ultimately decided against it and willed away the ache on his flesh.

He headed down and saw Allison eating a bowl of cereal. He headed straight for the coffee maker. Chris poured himself a generous cup of coffee and sat down next to his daughter.

“Late night?” Allison asked lightly.

He merely hummed under his breath as he took a sip of his coffee. Allison has been extra supportive after their talk about…The Kiss. Jesus, he thought to himself as he internally chided himself, why is he still calling it that?

He appreciates his daughter’s support, though. It brought them closer in a way he never thought that they would. Allison is beginning to be more than his daughter. She's turning into a woman that people can depend on. Her maturity is showing and it helps them both understand each other better.

“Are you done with…the paper you said you were writing?” He asked, soothing the itch between his brows.

“No.” Allison let out a heavy sigh. “I’m still a few hundred words short. I’m planning on finishing it after I get back from the grocery.”

“Focus on the paper.” He said to her. “I’ll do the shopping.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” He kissed her temple as he prepares his bowl of cereal. They need to shop.

After breakfast, he grabbed a jacket and his keys. He called out to Allison that he’d be heading out before he closed the door behind him. He got inside his car and drove to the grocery store—making a mental list of what he should buy.

He treated his grocery shopping the way he would look for a weapon for hunting. He went in, took what he needed, and headed straight to the cashier after. He doesn’t want to be there by the time most people do their shopping. Still, he should have bought a cart with him—he’s carrying four paper bags and he needs to open the back of his car. He didn’t think this through. He stood there for a moment, contemplating how he should proceed.

“Mr. Argent.”

Chris turned towards the familiar voice—heart on his throat, half hoping he’s right, half wishing he’s wrong. “Newt.” The name was out his mouth before he could even think about it.

The younger man walked towards him in measured steps. “I can help you with—that.” He finished lamely, a smile was on his lips. It wasn’t as warm as the ones aimed at him before, but it was no less fond.

“That would be appreciated.” He said. “The key’s in my left pocket.”

Newt got closer to him and that’s only when he realized what he did. His eyes widen when Newt bit his lips, looking down at his pants—pocket—pants pocket. Did he woke up and left his brain on his pillow today? He asked himself.

Chris fought off any sound threatening to come out of his mouth the moment he felt Newt’s hand on him. Why did he wear tight pants again? He can feel Newt’s fingers wiggling on his thighs and it’s giving him thoughts—certain thoughts that could get him hard. He needs to battle it—extremely hungry Wendigo, a nasty Darach, his Dad—

“Got it!” Newt exclaimed with a wide smile on his face as he dangles the keys in Chris’s face. “Which one is for the car?”

“The one in the middle.” He cleared his throat, it came out…too rough.

Newt held the key between his fingers, inserted it on the slot, and opened the back of the car with ease. Chris placed the bags in, careful with the eggs. He closed the door with a thud and saw Newt shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking at him under his lashes.

“I—Uhm…I want to say sorry.” Newt said and it got Chris’s brows furrowing in confusion. “About—about the kiss.” The Kiss, Chris’s mind unhelpfully supplied, because capitalization is important. “I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking right—no. That’s not it…It’s—“

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing.” He quickly said to Newt. “It was my fault—“

“No, it was mine.” Newt insisted. Their eyes locked and Chris can see that Newt believes that it was his fault. The avoidance tactic didn’t help him in any way at all. “You were grieving, I shouldn’t have...shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

Chris's mouth open and close for a second, unsure how to say what he needed to say. This needless guilt is going to ruin Newt. He wouldn’t stand for perfection to be tarred. “You didn’t take advantage of me.” He has to make that one clear first. “I was the one who did.”

“If you think that just because you’re older then you’re to blame, then you’re wrong.” Newt ran a hand over his head—further messing his hair. “You were vulnerable that moment, your wife just—“

Chris doesn’t want this talk to turn into something about Victoria. She’s gone, good heavens, she’s gone and she’s not coming back. She won’t be able to ruin the life Chris wants to build.

“I kissed you because I simply wanted to kiss you.” He cut off Newt, and the younger man snapped his mouth shut. “I shouldn’t want you the way I do because it’s all-consuming, but I do anyway, and I find myself starting to not care about what may or may not become because what I feel for you—it’s something that won’t easily go away.”

Newt was hesitant to say what’s in his mind first, but he found it in himself to voice it out. “I…I wanted to kiss you, too—that’s why I thought I was…taking advantage…of you.”

It’s nice to know that it wasn’t a pity kiss. Shit, it wasn’t a pity kiss. Where do they go from there?

Chris stared at Newt’s face. He dreamed of that face wearing expressions after expressions, and he has a favorite one. The one that lights up Newt’s entirety as he smiles at Chris. He finds himself wanting that to become a reality—aimed at him because it might just break his heart if Newt smiled lovingly at someone else.

“Allison said that it’s your eighteenth birthday tonight.”

“Uhm…Yeah, I—that was the reason why I approached you.” Newt blushed. “I was going to ask if you’d let her come to our place for a small celebration, just dinner with friends and a movie marathon.”

“Sure.” He said and steeled himself for the next thing he’s going to say. “Next Saturday though, if you want to date me—if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’d wait for you at the park from eight till twelve midnight. If you don’t come, then I’ll…know the answer.”

“I—“

“Think about it for a week,” Chris said pointedly. “Please.”

“Okay, a week.” They heard a phone beep and Newt pulled out his from his pocket. “Oh, no.” He worried his lips before looking back at Chris. “I have to go—a meeting with some government officials…”

“Go.” Chris tilted his head to the side. Newt turned and jogged off as he watches the retreating figure. He thinks he did the right thing. He’s praying he did the right thing. But, at this point in his life, right and wrong have been drenched together that it’s hard to find out which is which.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Woolworth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading the story. Each read, kudos, and comment means a lot. The bookmarks and subscriptions is also encouraging. Writing this brings to the brink of insanity but also fills me with joy. It has always been like that whenever I write long stories. Hahaha. I hope you are still having fun with me.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I do proofread. Please, pardon the mistakes that get passed me. On to the story...

It’s been a while since Peter lived with a lot of people. As the Hale Left Hand, he had chosen to live separate from his former pack. It makes it having an erratic schedule easier. He can’t explain to his younger cousins, nephews, and nieces why he needs to head out of the house during the cover of the night. Besides, it settled the nerves of the older werewolves. It does take a certain person to be a Left Hand at a very young age.

He sighed at that thought. No one ever tried asking him why he pushed himself to be the Hale Left Hand at an early age. They just all assume that he’s some kind of…twisted and perverted individual, and hey, maybe he is. It doesn’t mean that he wanted to be away from family—from the pack.

In packs as old as they are, the Alpha’s Right Hand and Left Hand would be their sibling—if not their cousins. It’s why Alphas strive to have kids by threes. The same thing his sister did—the same thing his parents did. The problem with his parents was, Peter was conceived later than his siblings. He had to play catch up.

Peter didn’t have the time to be a kid because he needed to be a Left Hand. He doesn’t blame anyone for it, nor does he mourn the childhood he never had. He understood his responsibility from the very beginning and he accepted it. A part of him just wished for someone to reach out to him.

There’s nothing to it now, he supposes. He can only make sure that Minho wouldn’t feel the same way he did. It wouldn’t be such a hard endeavor, since the rest of his pack are quite welcoming—and aware of the violence they’d have to have a hand on.

He entered the kitchen. Cora was already there, hair in a messy bun, and eating pancakes with fruits. Peter placed a kiss on her temple which she accepted with a hum. Frypan handed him a plate full, and he said his thanks.

It wasn’t a peaceful breakfast. The television was turned on to some music channel, Gally muttering under his breath as he lists down the things they needed to be done that day, Frypan was humming along with the music, and Minho entered from the back with a loud greeting.

“Morning perimeter check on the preserve done,” Minho announced as he threw Gally’s car keys back at him.

Peter narrowed his eyes at that. “Don’t you have a car of your own?” He found himself asking.

Minho headed straight for the fridge, taking a bottle of water and drinking before answering. “Nope, we can’t afford another one—what with the gas and maintenance money. Besides, I’d rather use my money into buying everything that I will need to create music.” Minho accepted a plate from Frypan. “I’m saving money for a mixing console.”

That made Peter pause. He never thought that he had forgotten to give his pack an allowance while he was away. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath that needs to be corrected right away. He opened his eyes once again, he can hear Newt coming down the stairs. “Who handles the finances?” He asked the wizard.

“I hold the—ATM thing where the goblins transfer our money to. Whoever calculates the expenses changes per week and we all review it.” Newt answered. He also headed for the fridge, but instead of taking anything from it, he posted a note on the door.

“You don’t have cards of your own?” He asked perplexed. “We’re…going to fix that. I’m going to get each of you debit cards. I’ll transfer your allowances there. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to do that earlier.”

“Why would you give us allowances?” Newt asked him.

“It’s part of my job as the pack Alpha—to provide,” Peter answered simply.

“We’re already earning our own money,” Newt said.

“I’m not saying no to it.” Minho was quick to say. “It would be nice to know that we have extra cash when we need to.”

“Yeah.” Frypan seconded. “And, there are recipes that I want to try.”

“What kind of car do you want?” Peter asked as he finishes off his plate.

Minho shrugged. “I’m fine with a bike.”

“I’ll see what I can do about it.” Peter picked up his plate and placed it in the sink. “Gally, if you could, please also add Cora in doing the chores.”

“I already have her name here,” Gally answered. “It’s simple things first. Once she’s used to how everything goes here, we’ll be giving her harder things to do.”

“Can I also do perimeter checks in the preserve?” Cora asked.

“Not yet this week.” Gally posted the paper he has in his hand on the door of the fridge, next to the note that Newt left. “I want to know how good you are at fighting before deciding.”

“I can fight.” Cora insisted.

“I don’t doubt it.” Gally’s tone wasn’t condescending. “I want to know how well, though.”

Peter joined the discussion before Cora opened her mouth again. “It is better if Minho would be the one to spar with her, Frypan might break her bones.”

“Don’t worry we’ll be careful,” Minho said in between bites, then stared at Cora. “Careful—but you are not going to get babied. Gally’s a hard-ass, and I don’t want anyone incompetent running around the preserve.”

Cora narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“I like to see you try, missy.” Minho playfully answered, along with faking a menacing look.

“What time will your cousin arrive?” Peter asked Newt.

“An hour,” Newt answered him after sneaking a glance at the wall clock. “Wear something worthy of meeting the president—that is who we’re going to meet, just the magical equivalent.”

“I didn’t have the time to buy a three-piece suit,” Peter said to the wizard.

Newt stared at him for a moment before speaking. “Just wear slacks and a button-up, grab a jacket or coat that I can transfigure into a robe.”

“Thank you.” Peter headed back upstairs to take a shower and get ready for the day.

He heeded Newt’s advice. He chose a simple white button-up shirt, black slacks, and leather shoes. For the coat, he grabbed the one that he doesn’t use as much as the others—just in case it can't be transfigured back. He made a mental note to buy clothes that can be worn in a professional capacity.

Heading to the living room, he saw that Newt’s already dressed—frowning at his phone. The teen looked up at him and saw the coat in his hands. “My cousin got lost.” He voiced out, exasperated. “He’s somewhere around the grocery store. After I fix the coat, I’ll just Apparate quick, point to him the way here because he decided to drive.”

Newt took the coat from his hand and lay it on the coffee table. The front door open and close, Stiles came walking in greeting the group a good morning. The Spark approached Peter and placed a kiss on his cheek. “You guys heading out?”

Peter rubbed his nose on Stiles’s cheek. “Newt’s going to pick up his cousin—after he fixes my coat.”

Stiles turned to Newt. “I coat do that for you.” He said to the Wizard. “Go and pick up your cousin.” Newt nodded at Stiles and was gone with a wave of his wand. Stiles clenched and unclenched his hand before letting it hover over the coat. “So, a Wizard worthy robe.” He muttered under his breath before closing his eyes.

Stiles touched the fabric, caressing it along the way. Peter watched as the simple short coat changed into a deep navy blue long coat with a high collar. The buttons were silver, etched with the Hale Pack symbol. It never ceases to amaze him how creative Stiles’s mind is.

His darling boy opened his eyes, picked up the coat, and showed it to him with a smile. “I think this is Wizardly enough.”

“More than.” He said as he sat on the sofa, spreading his arm on the backrest as an invitation for Stiles to join him. Stiles smiled at him and his antics and joined him. Peter turned his head towards Stiles, resting his cheek on the Spark’s temple.

It’s such a simple morning—Peter thinks he’ll never get over the novelty of it.

* * *

Newt’s starting to think that maybe his pursuit of Chris Argent is blessed by the Gods themselves. How fortunate was it that he would find the hunter in the grocery store? Very fortunate, if he may say so himself. It caught Chris off guard long enough for Newt to take a look at what’s in his mind. It enabled him to say and do the right things, pushing Chris to ask him out. It may have been an impulse decision but it brings him one step closer to what he wants to achieve. Newt will take it.

Newt got what he needed. He has been a constant thought inside the Argent’s mind. Newt was ecstatic as he picks apart the man’s internal turmoil, making way to the psyche. Chris is learning how to be honest about his desires—Newt as the very top of the list. Deeper he went and Newt heard the four-letter word he’s been looking for echoing inside Chris’s mind. Now, he needs to work on making sure that four-letter word would always be associated with him—his name and entirety.

He saw his cousin standing by a silver car, he jogged towards him greeted the man. As always, Quin was happy to see him. They made small talk as they drive to the pack’s temporary packhouse. They parked the car and headed in. The Gladers greeted his cousin with a cheer that says a lot about how fond they are of Quin.

“Peter Hale.” Quin’s awed voice caught Newt’s attention. His cousin surged forward as Peter got up from the sofa, a hand was stretched for a shake. “I should have known you were no ordinary man.” Quin laughed good-naturedly. “Who would have thought that you’re a were-creature?”

“You know each other?” Newt asked the obvious question.

“He handed me my butt in court.” Quin snorted. “It was both amazing and infuriating.”

“You did a great job in that case.” Peter complimented Newt’s cousin. “It was your client’s fault as to why the case was lost.”

Quin shook his head lightly from side to side. “You baited him, caught him by the mouth.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “We got five minutes before the Portkey I have activates.” He tells them. “We might spend the whole day there, I wouldn’t be surprised. Do you guys need to bring anything?”

“I got the contract of the werewolf packs council,” Newt answered. “Besides that, I don’t think we’ll need much more than present Peter. I have a feeling they’ll do a bloodline test.”

“Well, I’ll say good luck but we all know you guys would knock them off their socks.” Tommy smiled up at them. “Though I am envious that Peter would be seeing the Wizarding place before I do—and I’m magic.”

“Sorry, kid,” Quin said to him. “We’ll let you start a riot someday else. It’s been centuries since a Spark has been seen.”

“It’s really that big of a deal?” Tommy asked.

Newt understands why he finds it hard to believe. He lived most of his life thinking that he is something mundane. In the world of Supernatural, he ran with the wolves without enhanced speed or strength, faced dangers without hunter training, and battled each creature with the power of his mind. He achieved incredible things without the help of magic.

Quin merely smiled at Tommy, the same way Newt’s grandaunt smiles at people. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He turned his head to Peter. “Thirty seconds.”

He draws the umbrella he is holding forward for Peter to grab it. The Alpha pulled on the coat that Tommy had transfigured and reached out to the umbrella. Newt did the same, he gave Tommy a nod. “See you later.”

“Go show a new breed of Scamander.” Tommy made a shooing motion at him, then stared at Peter. “I’m expecting the world.”

“Of course, darling.” Peter’s wearing a pleased expression.

Newt felt the pull of the Portkey at the bottom of his stomach. He held in his breath as he was pushed and pulled towards a different direction until he felt the solid ground beneath his feet once again. Newt let out his breath and straightened himself, adjusting the rustic yellow long coat he decided on wearing.

“Follow me, boys.” Quin started making their way to Woolworth. Newt and Peter stayed close behind. They barely paid attention to the coming and going of people. It’s New York, after all, one of the most populated cities in the world.

As Quin tells the doorman why they were there, Newt leaned towards Peter—whispering. “Don’t show a look of amazement—no matter what you see.” Peter gave him a terse nod in turn.

The doorman opened the entrance for them, and they all give the man a respectful nod. Newt watched as Peter takes in everything around him with a neutral expression, but his eyes gave him away. It’s better than outright ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ which he knows Tommy will do just to mess with people around him.

There was interest in Peter’s mind, and he’s sure that more books will be borrowed from him. Newt’s thinking of asking for books about the history of Wizarding America. It seems like it’s the next logical step in Peter’s magical education. He stopped himself from sighing, who would have thought he’d be responsible for educating people about magic—certainly not him.

They headed to the elevator, Peter glanced at the elf but did not stare. Good, Newt thought, he’s sure that they’d encounter more creatures as time goes on. He’s thinking of opening the Beacon Hills preserve to some magical creatures, too. That project is for the future, right now, they need to focus on the unification.

As they got to the floor they needed to be on, Newt prepared himself to once again face one of the Wizarding’s best. The door of the elevator opened and Newt heard his name being called. “Oh, dear Merlin.” He muttered beneath his breath as a blue-haired man bounded towards him.

* * *

Something is happening behind the scenes. Teddy may be an Auror in training, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have good instincts. He’s a werewolf for crying out loud, and not like the ones that shy away from their wolves. No, his Godfather had taught him a long time ago that there’s nothing wrong with being a part creature. So, Teddy embraces that wolf part of him, the one that tells him to take notice of his surrounding—assess all threats and be aware of all the exits, you know, just in case.

Being accepting of his wolf didn’t ease his transformation, but it did help in his confidence. It made him feel like he isn’t alone all the time as if he is his own best friend. That would probably be weird for other people, but all he feels about it is comfort.

Though, he does sometimes feel…well, not alone per se, but like he doesn’t belong. Yes, he knows that his family accepts him—from both Potter and Malfoy's side, but they are not like him. Other werewolves he had met, found it strange that he listens to his wolf. They think that he will become the next Greyback—which is just ridiculous, don’t they know who raise him? He figured it doesn’t matter. He’ll get used to the longing feeling.

He just graduated from his Auror training when Minister Granger called him in for a meeting. Teddy tried to think back to the previous months that passed, he hadn’t done anything that would have warranted a meeting with the Minister of Magic. Still, he fixed his coat, slick his hair to the side, and attend the meeting with a curious smile.

Inside the room, his Godfather is in attendance, too. He sent Harry an inquiring gaze but all Teddy got was a look that says he needs to be patient. He doesn’t have to be for long anyway as Minister Granger gestured for him to sit down.

There was a heavy silence all around as he got comfortable. The two-thirds of the golden trio were looking at each other, probably daring the other to speak first. Minister Granger got a pinched look on her face, she sighed. As always, Harry won the silent battle of will. In other terms, his Godfather is more hard-headed than the leader of their world.

Minister Granger started explaining about an equally magical faction that has been forgotten over the years due to the witch hunt and creature segregation law that was put into place. Teddy was informed that there are other werewolves in the world—the kind that can control their shift during the full moon and can shift even when the sky is clear from the moon. The faction was called Supernatural and they blend in better in the muggle world than the Wizarding kind since they don’t have the luxury of hiding behind extendable charms. He’s told that his former housemate—Newt Scamander, is currently in America working out a way to bring back the Supernatural community under the protection of the Magical one because they are still being hunted by muggles.

Teddy didn’t react right away. He reached for his tea and took a sip. He needed to keep himself calm. Bloody hell, there are more were-creatures out there. He thought that they were all but extinct because of the last war. He gently placed the cup down and calmly asked Minister Granger what it is they want him to do.

In this part, his Godfather took over. They are in touch with an Alpha—let Teddy repeat that, an Alpha that has been leading the werewolf packs in the unification. He’s informed that Newt has been working closely with the Alpha, and the Ministry of Magic wants Teddy to go to America to; first, help Newt in his endeavor of reintroducing the Supernatural to the Magical. Second, see if a werewolf much like himself would benefit from living with an Alpha—with a pack because there are werewolf packs. How mind-blowing is that? Third, help Newt train a Spark.

The last one had Teddy sputtering. A Spark, he’s going to meet a Spark. Not only is he going to meet a Spark, but also train one. He would be a fool to turn this down.

To be on the safer side of things, Harry thought of taking Teddy with him on Newt’s first meeting with the president of MACUSA. They will also meet the Alpha that Newt has been mentioning in his letter. Harry wanted to see how the two different wolves will react to each other. If there’s any negative reaction, they would cancel their initial plan. Teddy agreed to all of these.

They got to America a night before the meeting. Teddy tossed and turned on the hotel bed, couldn’t find slumber—too excited to meet an Alpha. It was early morning when he finally fell asleep. He had no one to blame but himself when he woke up feeling groggy.

As he and Harry eat breakfast, his excitement turned into nervousness. What if the Alpha doesn’t like his wolf? What if the Alpha doesn’t like him? Oh, Merlin, he hopes not to screw anything up. This is an opportunity of a lifetime.

They got in Woolworth and people stare at Harry in their obnoxious way while his Godfather tried to not mind it all. Teddy finds it amusing whenever someone tries to flirt with Harry even when they know Ginny can blow them to pieces. They heard the elevator door open, and Teddy couldn’t stop himself from calling out to Newt.

“Oh, Merlin, you’ve grown!” He gushed as he squeezed Newt’s cheeks.

The younger wizard swatted his hands away from his face. “Stop that!”

Teddy gave his cheeks another squeeze. “But, it’s been such a long time.”

“We see each other every other holiday.” Newt reminded him in between gritted teeth. “We practically grew up together.” Newt swatted his hands once again, this time with more force.

Harry approached them, much more dignified than Teddy did. Newt was given a hug, though not the embarrassing kind, before facing Newt’s American cousin and the other man he’s with. Harry extended a hand to the unnamed man for a shake. “I’m Harry Potter, and that is my Godson, Theodore Lupin—he goes by Teddy.”

The man shook Harry’s hand with a charming smile. “Peter Hale.”

“He’s the protector and Alpha of Beacon Hills,” Newt added.

Teddy let out a gasp. “An Alpha.” He couldn’t help but murmur. “I’ve never met an Alpha before.”

The man’s charming smile turned amused as he set his sights on Teddy. “I can sense your wolf,” Peter said to him before his eyes flashed red. Teddy felt a pull inside his chest—unaware that his eyes flashed golden yellow in answer, it made his knees weak. He has all but fallen to the ground, it was a good thing Newt has a hold on him. Peter hummed beneath his breath. “Interesting…”

“What is?” Harry’s voice made Teddy realize that he’s been staring at Peter.

“He’s…an omega but not feral,” Peter answered. “Omega werewolves are the ones without a pack, the lack of it usually leads a werewolf to become feral and a danger to society.” He tilted his head to the side. Teddy ran a hand over his chest—the longing that he was feeling for years, it was gone. “Your wolf accepted me as its Alpha.”

Teddy’s eyes widen at that. “Well, that was quick.”

* * *

Harry tried not to show his exasperation. It was difficult but years of practice made him somewhat an expert of it. He helps Teddy straighten up from almost falling and subtly watch the considering expression the Hale Alpha was wearing.

It was obvious that the man wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction from Teddy. Harry could only guess they’re both in the dark when it comes to how the different types of werewolves would interact with each other. He’s going to try and be understanding, keep his overprotectiveness in wraps for the time being. A lot is riding on this unification.

When Newt came back from the future, carrying a magical signature that was so pure, Headmistress McGonagall was beside herself. The magical signature wasn’t only pure, it was also powerful—too raw to be from a skilled wizard or witch, but powerful nonetheless. The headmistress was quick to alert the Aurors, afraid that dark magic was performed by a student. In some way, dark magic was performed—they just weren’t prepared for the reason as to why.

Newt Scamander was interrogated by an Auror, then an Unspeakable, till the only person who can be able to pass judgment was the Minister of Magic herself. Being head of the Auror department, and reluctant teenage hero, Hermione asked him to be a part of this…Harry doesn’t even know what to call it.

He still can’t shake off the feeling of dread whenever he remembers the memories Newt let them view. He saw his own body along with the bodies of his friends and their children lie lifeless in the halls of Hogwarts. It became his greatest fear.

The trials all the boys went through, Dumbledore’s manipulation couldn’t hold a wick next to it. Isn’t that just sad? It seems like there’s no generation of children wherein none of them had to suffer. Fate is such a cruel mistress.

A part of him admires Newt, another part was weeping. This is Luna’s boy—just as sweet, as smart, and as caring as his mother. The teen stood in front of him and Hermione a changed person, just as smart and caring as before but wariness had settled in Newt’s heart. Harry hates that he will never be able to explain to Luna why her son had changed so much.

Standing next to Newt, Harry feels confidence oozing out of him in waves. There’s no doubt that Newt is ready to face the wizards and witches of MACUSA. Inside the meeting hall, he carried himself with poise and dignity that can rival Malfoy’s. Newt let people whisper his name like a hallowed prayer, and he paid them no mind—eyes focused in front.

Harry, Teddy, and Quin let themselves be ushered to the side. They all know that this meeting is for Hale with Newt serving as someone who can testify for the man. There was a moment of silence before the meeting started.

“State your name and purpose for today’s meeting.” The woman beside the president ordered Newt and Peter.

“My name is Newt Scamander—second of my name, I am here to aid the reintroduction of the Supernatural community to the Magical World,” Newt said, looking directly at the President.

“Peter Hale—first of my name, Protector of Beacon Hills, and Alpha of the Hale Pack. I am here to ask for aid with our ongoing conflict with no-maj Hunters.” Peter’s tone was respectful but it’s clear that he doesn’t think he is below the people inside the room. Harry’s also impressed with his Wizarding etiquette, Merlin knows how much time he needed before he got used to all the formality.

“Months ago, Mr. Newt Scamander had reached out to us through a letter asking to meet me.” President Quahog started. “The matter he wished to discuss with me was something peculiar—the reintroduction of the Supernatural community to the Magical World.” That caused the people inside the hall to murmur louder. “Reintroduction—it’s…a strange word to use. So, I had people from the Body for Protection of Magical Species look into it, along with the Major Investigation Department. They have found documents that shed enlightenment.” With a wave of the President’s wand, an image of the said document was projected in the air for everyone to see.

The document was a contract between werewolf packs and MACUSA. There were nine unfamiliar names, aside from the President. Harry watched as Peter Hale’s eyes flash red for a moment before returning to their natural blue. Everyone can see the Hale name in the document.

“It seems that reintroduction is the correct term to use.” President Quahog was unhappy about it. The man is known for taking the protection of magical people and creatures seriously. “We’ve been…neglectful of our responsibilities. You can be sure, Mr. Scamander, Alpha Hale, that this will be righted. I have created a task force to investigate as to why this particular agreement has been…misplaced.” Harry’s impressed with President Quahog’s wording. That takes talent.

“If I may, Mister President.” The head of the Magical Law Enforcement spoke up. The President gave him a nod of approval to continue speaking. “Achilles Tolliver, Head of the Magical Law Enforcement.” He introduced himself before going further. “Alpha Hale, you’ve mentioned that you have an ongoing conflict with the no-maj Hunters. For how long has this been?”

Peter’s lips twitched to a sardonic smile, but he quickly schooled his expression. “There’s no clear history as to when it started, but there is one to when a Hunter community had been established.” He was encouraged to continue. “It was around the late seventeenth hundred, Sebastian Valet, a human turned Werewolf—was also known as the Beast of Gévaudan, went on a rampage—killing five hundred or more people from France to America. He was felled by his sister, Marie-Jeanne Valet, with the help of Henri Argent.”

Peter paused for the effect. “That was the first hunt against werewolves. Marie and Henri then took it upon themselves to hunt and kill every werewolf that would cause any human harm. They trained their children and other families who wanted to rid their towns of any Supernatural creature. They created a council, they have a code; Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassents. In simpler words, we hunt those who hunt us. A code that, in no clear way, states that they will only go after shapeshifters that have been proven guilty of harming the innocent. We werewolves had played by their rule—we have a treated with them, it’s easy enough to follow, certainly reasonable, too, but not all hunters follow the code.”

Another pause. “The Hale Pack had been protecting the people of Beacon Hills from Supernatural threats for hundreds of years. Except for the last six years—when a hunter burned my whole pack alive, there are only four living Hales left. They have done the same to other packs, three survivors from the differing pack had joined mine seeking—not vengeance, but justice for their family and pack.”

The man was good, Harry thought to himself as he watches the wizards and witches' reaction. The speech was impassioned enough that it didn’t seem like he’s a raving madman, but rather a man who has been hurt. His eyes flitted towards Newt, he can see that Luna’s son has his agenda.

* * *

“A Werewolf Council has been created.” Newt took the silence as his cue to speak up. Peter had set the pace, they need to keep it. “More than twenty werewolf packs had agreed to approach the Magical World.” He nodded towards the document still projected in the air. “It’s a far cry from nine packs, but there are familiar names there. If Alpha Hale is proven to be the descendant of Poric Hale, the Hale family and pack is owned reparations for this—as you’ve said, neglect.” He uttered the last word pointedly. Let them know that he doesn’t agree with how the President worded it.

“Of course.” President Quahog inclined his head to the side, a humbling gesture. “A quick ancestry test shall be performed.” He turned to the woman beside him. “If you may gather the necessary parchment.” The woman nodded and went to do as she was told. “Now, as for the no-maj hunters…”

“We’ll be doing an investigation of our own.” Newt was quick to say, and the President looked like he was just about to disagree. “These are no-maj hunters, their means of eliminating the Supernatural kind are of that and the Wizardkind—despite our recent advances, are not well versed with the no-maj methods.”

“If that is so, then how are you going to proceed with the investigation?” Tolliver asked—a bit haughty.

“A Spark of the Hale Pack is related to a County Sheriff—I don’t know exactly the equivalent of that in the Magical World, but the Sheriff is responsible for half a million people within his country.” Newt shoved his hands inside his pocket. “The Sheriff can open an investigation regarding any crime done inside his county.”

Newt’s heavily implicating that the Sheriff knows about the Supernatural and Magical, he can’t waver. He is certainly hoping that the revelation of a Spark would distract everyone. He’s praying to Morgana herself for everyone to focus on the bright shiny Spark. As if on cue, the murmurs of a Spark existing erupted around the room. Newt had to stop himself from—as Tommy and Minho called it, fist-pumping in the air.

“Quiet.” The President ordered and slowly the noise died down. “A Spark—you’ve discovered a Spark.” Disbelief is present in his voice.

“I’ve discovered nothing.” Newt honestly said. “I was fortunate enough to gain the friendship of the Spark.”

“And, the Spark is in your pack?” President Quahog shifted his gaze towards Peter. “How?” He demands an answer.

“After surviving—what werewolves called the Hale Fire, I was left in a catatonic state in a no-maj hospital while my nieces and nephew hide from hunters.” Peter started. “The absence of Pack and Bonds made it difficult for me to heal. I was in the long term ward for six years when a Spark approached my bedside and healed me. The condition for it is that they want to be a part of my pack.” He paused. “My gratitude for the Spark is immense—they have equal footing with me inside the Pack. I will make sure no harm comes across them.”

“The Spark of the Hale Pack is the Guardian of the Beacon Hills Nemeton—“another round of murmurs. Newt is starting to have fun in dropping revelations on people. “They have deemed Alpha Hale worthy of their alliance and thus have been aiding us in our endeavor. The…threat in their being is one of the reasons why they are not present here, but otherwise, the Spark wants to know the Magical World, too.”

“A Spark, a Nemeton, and Hunters…” President Quahog was dumbfounded. “It feels like we’re back in the witch-hunting era.” He smoothed out the terse lines of his forehead. “The Sheriff would be the one to spearhead the investigation, but we will need reports and copies of pieces of evidence.” He stared at Newt. “It seems like you’ve thought this through, Mr. Scamander—I probably should have expected it.” He sighed.

The President’s assistant returned with the ancestry parchment. President Quahog waved his hand, a silent gesture for the woman to approach them and get a drop of Peter’s blood. Diligently, the woman walked towards them with the parchment and a dagger.

Newt took a step between the woman and Peter. “I apologize, but the Spark made me promise that if blood would be drawn today for purposes such as this, it would be by his dagger in my hands.” He wasn’t asking permission, he hoped that he didn’t sound like he is asking for permission. They have charmed a dagger that would make it look that Peter has another niece, even if they use the bloody ancestry parchment.

President Quahog’s expression turned a touch thunderous, he was looking at Peter and Newt—not suspiciously, but there was levity in it. The man is probably wondering what they have or did for a Spark to value them so. Well, Newt can’t say that Tommy’s in love with the werewolf shank and they’ve faced the end of the world together, can he?

“Sparks have been known to be protective creatures.” The head of the Body for Protection of Magical Species said to the President. “It is one of the reasons why their magic remains pure.” Newt wants to call bull, but—hey, shit like that would help them.

“Go on, then.” President Quahog said to them.

Newt carefully pulled out the dagger from his inside breast pocket. He showed it to the wizards and witches around them, sure that they won’t trace the charm because no one can trace a Spark’s magic. He drew his hand towards Peter, silently asking for his hand. The Alpha laid his hand over Newt’s hand. The assistant crowded them to get the drop of blood needed the moment Newt punctured Peter’s finger pad.

They collectively hold their breath as names started appearing on the parchment. A wave of the wand from the assistant and everything they can see on the parchment was projected in the air. Peter looked up with disbelief in his eyes.

A long line of names appeared till the name Poric Hale showed itself, but that wasn’t the one Peter was focusing on. It was the one under his cousin’s name, Malia Tate. “I have…another niece.” He breathed out. The emotions in Peter’s voice were enough to turn everyone sympathetic to his plight.

“It hasn’t been underlined.” The President pointed out. “It means she’s still alive.” Peter let out a shuddering breath that seemed to have echoed all around the hall. “My Aurors would be available should you ever need our help in the search for her.”

That was a good move, Newt thought. The President would be ready to support them but wouldn’t take total control over them. The lines have been drawn, Newt supposes. “Thank you, Mister President,” Peter answered solemnly.

* * *

Stiles spent most of his morning in Newt’s potion laboratory. He was careful in following the instructions about the potions that he needed to brew for the cleansing ritual. He had to call Gally down to help him cut himself for blood. It has been years and he still feels light-headed whenever he sees blood.

The brewing kept his mind off the meeting with the MACUSA President, though not by much. There’s no reason for him to worry because he believes in Newt’s ability. Still, he doesn’t believe that everyone working under a government is altruistic. He wanted to be there to get a feel of the Wizarding people.

The dagger they have charmed to trick the ancestry parchment popped inside his mind. It was one of the most intricate charm work he has done so far. He hopes that it works, if it doesn’t the wizards will know that the dagger is charmed and Peter will know that they’re hiding his daughter from him. Newt will lose his credibility before even gaining one, and their whole ‘save the world from apocalypse’ mission would be doomed.

Stiles let out a breath and closed his eyes—affirming his belief that the dagger would work accordingly, that their plan would go on smoothly.

He emerged from the basement when the potion needed four hours for simmering. He made himself a sandwich as he tries not to disturb Frypan in preparing a meal for Newt’s birthday dinner. He offered a hand as he swallows the last bite of his sandwich.

The back door opened, Cora walked in with dirt all over her and a few dead leaves on her hair but a smile on her lips. Stiles raised an eyebrow at Minho. Their Left Hand said something about teaching her some dirty tricks and Stiles knows that he wouldn’t go toe to toe with Cora any time soon.

Gally passed the two as they race up the stairs to shower. “Who is going to pick up Allison?” He asked them.

“I’ll do it.” Stiles easily said. “Should I also pick up Isaac?”

“No need.” Gally took over what he was doing. “He said he’s going to bike here.”

“Cool, cool.” He washed his hands quickly and dried them. “Is there anything that needs to be pick-upped by the store?” He asked Frypan.

“Nah, we’re good till tomorrow.”

“Okay, if you guys thought of something, just text me.” With that, he headed out of the house and straight to his jeep.

He was humming to the tune on the radio while he drives to the Argent residence. He parked by the drive away and tried to remember when Chris and Allison moved from this house to the apartment. He wonders if they would do the same this time.

He skipped the stairs towards the door and rang the doorbell. It was Chris who answered the door. Stiles let out a big smile, exuding manic energy. “Hey, Mr. A. I’m here to pick up Allison—Newt’s tied up in a meeting with some government people.”

He and Newt have been slowly dispersing information about what they do to Chris so when the big revelation comes, it wouldn’t be too much of a shock to the man’s system. It has to seem like Newt didn’t hide his nature because of any malicious intent. Chris has to think of the secrecy as something that Newt has to do, and that Newt was just bidding his time to tell Chris. Their relationship has to be seen like star-crossed lovers—like it wasn’t at all planned.

“Government people?” Chris asked with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah!” Stiles confirmed. “He’s—uhm…thinking of being, like, a youth ambassador for some…animals.” He faked an almost anxious expression that he’s sure Chris will catch up on. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, he says to tell you that he’s sorry he couldn’t pick up Allison but he’s sure that he’ll be able to drive Allison home—but, if you’ll let me, I can do that, too.”

Chris’s smile was an amused one. The man opens the door so that Stiles could enter. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll pick up Allison around midnight. I figured you boys deserve a rest from being my daughter’s chaperone.”

Stiles let out a laugh at that. “We don’t really mind, Allison’s a friend.”

“Dad, they wouldn’t have to drive me everywhere if you’d just buy me a car,” Allison said as she walks down the stairs. “Don’t you think it’s about time that I learn how to drive?”

Chris hummed between his lips. “I’ll think about it.” Allison rolled her eyes before giving Chris a good-bye kiss on the cheek. “Since you’re just having a movie marathon for Newt’s birthday, I have taken it upon myself to extend your curfew up until midnight.” This got Allison smiling up at him. “I’ll be picking you up by then.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Allison’s expression became cheeky. “I’ll send Newt your well-wishes.”

Stiles noticed the tips of Chris’s ears turned pink. He decided he’ll ask about it once they are in the safety of his jeep. They were out of the driveway when Stiles spoke up. “So…” He prolonged the one-syllable word, banking on his awkwardness. “What was that with the—uh, Newt thing.”

Allison threw her head back and laughed. It took a couple of seconds before she had control over her glee. “You wouldn’t guess what Dad did.” Stiles chance a glance at her, eyebrows raised in question. “He asked Newt out on a date.”

Bingo, Stiles knew it would only be a matter of time. He wore a surprised expression. “Wha—What? Your Dad…Mr. A, asked our Momma Newt out on a date?” He’s driving the idea hard inside Allison’s mind, he knows. “When?”

“Just this morning.” Allison shared. “Dad said that Newt approached him to apologize about the kiss—“

“What kiss?” He all but shrieked. He’s really getting good at this acting thing. They should give him a star in Hollywood.

Allison’s expression was a guilty one. “Let’s not tell Newt that Dad told me?”

He nodded eagerly. “Secret kiss will remain a secret just share some details, Allison.”

Stiles lend her hand an ear as she tells him the happenings a week before Victoria’s funeral. He’s also trying to gauge what she feels about everything that happened these past few months. Allison seems to be completely over Victoria’s death, and genuinely excited for Chris to date Newt.

“It’s so cool that you and your Dad have such a close relationship.” He commented and it got Allison smiling bigger. Stiles needs to make sure that once Kate makes her way to Beacon Hills she wouldn’t be able to influence Allison. Their plan depends on that.

* * *

His cousin had a child—the thought has been running around his mind for a while now. His cousin had a child and he can’t remember. Peter feels phantom claws at the base of his neck. It makes him feel sick. Why would Talia take away that memory from him?

The meeting went on, he and Newt took turns speaking. Though he would admit to letting Newt take the lead in the conversation after finding out that he has another niece. Newt handled the details, making sure that they have copies of documents that they would need—and pointedly asking for a copy of the ancestry parchment. Peter doesn’t doubt that Newt had amazed the wizards and witches of MACUSA.

They exited the function hall, Newt stayed close to him in the hallway. Harry Potter was looking at him with a level of understanding that Peter can’t quite comprehend. Teddy was being shifty, his hair color changes from one into another, Peter made a mental note of asking about that later. Quin took it upon himself to be the one to get the copies they need.

“I’m fine.” He said.

“It’s understandable if you’re not,” Harry said to him and Peter had to fight back the urge to growl at the man. “It’s always a shock to find out that you have more family than you thought.”

“Speaking from experience, I presume.” Peter sent a sardonic smile towards Harry.

Harry let out a chuckle. “It’s always a novelty meeting a person who hadn’t read the autobiography about myself. It makes me want to move to the muggle world sometimes.”

“Ah, yes.” Peter took the opportunity to shake off his somber thoughts. “Newt had lent me Wizarding History books—no autobiographies, though. Perhaps next time.”

Harry snorted at that. “Don’t bother with the crap.” He then turned towards Newt. “Don’t let him get hold of those horrid things.”

“I know better,” Newt said. Quin approached them at a sedate pace, in his hands is a box. He handed it over to Newt who made the box smaller to fit his pocket.

Peter straightened his stance, trying to collect himself. “It’s been a pleasure.” He draws his hand forward to Harry for a shake. “Once the House Pack is done you and your family are welcome to it.”

Harry returned the shake. “Wouldn’t that be a problem with your pack?”

“Teddy’s wolf had accepted me as his Alpha,” Peter informed him. “While you are not pack, you are still Teddy’s family. I don’t plan on cutting him from any of his family or friends.” He turned his eyes towards Teddy. “Be patient, pup, only a month and you’ll meet the rest of the pack.” Teddy mutely nodded at him. Peter step closer to him and scented him. “This is how we say hello and good-bye to each other.”

Slowly, Teddy copied the movement. The heat radiating off the younger werewolf let Peter know that’s blushing madly. He wonders how the Wizardkind werewolf had survived all these years.

“Is it always like that?” Harry asked him.

“Werewolves are tactile creatures,” Peter answered him, glad that the man is invested in his Godson’s well-being. “I’ll gladly explain more to you once we have time. For now, I bid you a farewell and safe trip.”

“You as well.” Harry smiled at him as Peter, Newt, and Quin headed a different way.

Outside of Woolworth, the sun is low in the sky. Peter didn’t think that the meeting took so much time. Inside the building, discussing matters that needed to be, it didn’t feel like time was moving at all. He wonders if it’s because of magic or simply due to the fact they had discussed a lot of things.

He quietly followed Quin to where they Apparated that morning. This time instead of an umbrella, he was holding out a hat. Peter raised an eyebrow at that. “The umbrella was a time keyed Portkey, this one is a password one,” Quin answered. “I thought that you guys would like to look at the sceneries, but after all the…revelations, I’d understand if you just want to go home and talk to the rest of the boys.”

“Your thoughtfulness is appreciated.” Peter placed enough sincerity in his voice. “Let’s head home.” He said to Newt. Peter wouldn’t say it out loud—at least not in front of other people, but he’d like to wrap himself around Stiles after this trying day.

Peter and Newt reached out to the hat, and Quin uttered the password beneath his breath. The sensation of Apparating took over. Peter breathed through it, and in a blink of an eye—the three of them were standing in the living room.

The noises made by the pack was a welcomed distraction. Peter can hear Allison, Frypan, and Gally in the kitchen—Frypan was softly giving detailed instruction. Minho and Stiles were in the garage—arguing about the tempo of a song they are working on.

The sound of the Apparation must have alerted the werewolves of the pack, Gally peeked in the living room—his arms were covered in flour. “You guys are back,” Gally stated the obvious in place of a greeting. “How did it go?”

“Enlightening.” Peter merely said. “Would you mind calling Stiles for me? Tell me to meet me in our room.” He turned to Quin. “Thank you for all your help today. I look forward to seeing you again.” Quin merely gave him a tight smile. Peter turned and headed up the stairs.

The moment he was inside the room, he took off his coat and threw it on the armchair in the corner of the room. He heard rushed footsteps coming from the stairs. Soon, Stiles’s was walking in with a worried expression. One look on Peter and Stiles closed the door, quickly clasping his hands together. Peter felt the shift of electricity in the air, no doubt a privacy ward was put up.

Stiles was next to him, pulling on his arms to get him to settle on the bed. Peter followed easily. He was never one to rely on people, but Peter—he finds respite in Stiles’s presence. He turned his head to bury his face on Stiles’s neck, he grumbles as he releases a deep breath. Stiles ran a hand over his hair, ruining it as he let his nails scrape his scalp.

“Alpha mine, am I about to assassinate the magical president?” Stiles asked in a light voice and Peter couldn’t help the smile and chuckle that took over him.

“You ridiculous boy.” Peter let his fangs drop as he placed an open-mouthed kiss along Stiles’s jaw. “I can kill my own prey.”

“That’s true.” Stiles hummed. “Now, tell me, what have you in a contemplative mood?”

“I have another niece—from my cousin,” Peter answered simply enough. He tried to hide how heartbroken he is, but he just couldn’t. “I—I don’t remember my cousin siring a child, nor bringing home a woman.”

“Your cousin could have hidden it,” Stiles answered.

Peter knows that it was a logical conclusion, but werewolves aren’t like humans. Werewolves value their young, at least he thought Talia did. A pup is a gift—they are a sign that a pack is healthy and strong.

He shook his head lightly from side to side. “The pup…Talia took her away from family. I don’t know why. I need to teach Minho how to access memories—“

“Does it matter why?” Stiles cut him off. “Talia’s gone, let the reason be gone with her. I say we look for your niece. That’s more productive than letting a dead woman dictate your life.” Stiles’s hand slowly crept to his neck and Peter’s eyes fluttered close.

“You don’t seem to be fond of my sister.”

“There is never a reason to abandon family—pack.” Stiles’s tone was hard. “She can take her reason to hell, we don’t need it. We’re going to find your niece and we’re going to give her life—the life that she should have had since the start.”

Peter…he likes the sound of that. Besides, Talia’s gone now. She’s not coming back. It’s better to move forward than dig up lost memories of the past.

* * *

It was easy enough to conjure vitriol for Talia, Stiles found out. He is aware that there are a lot of packs out there that don’t see their Left Hands as protective figures. From how Derek, Cora, and Deaton—from before, talked about Talia, they made it seem like she’s the ultimate Alpha to emulate. As Peter shares more and more about how Talia ran her pack back then, Stiles is starting to see how fucking unlikely that it.

He couldn’t help but think that most Alphas are trained to be a total douche. Maybe that’s why Derek tried his best to be one when he became an Alpha. Then, Scott got most of what he knows from Deaton who is pro-Talia. Stiles wonders if it’s the Alpha Spark that has turned them that way—further highlighting their base instincts.

Stiles thinks back—way, way back when Peter first got his Alpha Spark. The man was vain—the man was vain always has been. He walked and talked as if it is within his rights to own other werewolves—like their allegiance is rightfully his just because he has red eyes. He was completely self-assured that he wasn’t in the wrong, that his plan wouldn’t backfire.

Then, he looks down at the current Peter—eyes closed and nose buried on the slope of his neck. The man is vain still, Stiles thinks that it’s just a Peter thing more than an Alpha thing. He defers to the wishes of the pack, so long as they explain themselves—especially if it is Stiles. He’s sweet…well, sweeter behind closed doors—he lets Stiles take the lead.

Stiles isn’t sure if he should be alarmed by these changes. He’s not sure if they are a sign of good mental health or if he’s finally broken Peter’s psyche. Yes, he is not as aggressive as Newt is—but all he has to do is will things into existence. What if he had—somehow and some way, willed Peter to be like this? To be like the kind of Alpha and partner that he wants?

Oh, that’s fucked up, he thought to himself—but…but…

He let out a shaky breath. Stiles let his hands roam to Peter’s hair, to his neck, to his shoulders, to his collar until it landed on the top button of Peter’s shirt. The Alpha didn’t stop him, didn’t even bother opening his eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” Peter murmured.

“Remember Nurse-Hunter?” That got Peter opening his eyes. “I’ve kept the pretense that you’re still in a catatonic state. There are very few changes in the fake reports that I send to the other person over the web. I did receive an unscheduled email from the other side.”

Peter straightened up, putting a reasonable distance between them—but he didn’t take Stiles’s hand off his body. “What did it say?”

“The copy is actually in my journal, I’ll hand that to you later, but it’s an email informing the nurse that Derek and Laura Hale has been preparing for a move.” Stiles heard the sudden intake of air coming from Peter. “The Hunters wasn’t sure where they are moving—just that they are preparing to. Whoever sent the email advised the Nurse-Hunter to keep an eye open for werewolf packs around here. I faked a simple reply that promises to alert the Hunter if anything here starts smelling fishy.”

“They’re having them watched.” It wasn’t such a wonder when Peter came to the same conclusion as he did. “We have to warn them.”

Stiles shook his head.

At that, Peter already knows the reason why they can’t. “I’ll…contact them once we’re better established here.”

“It won’t be long now.” Stiles tried to be encouraging. “You’ve met with the Magical President. Next week, we’ll be talking to my Dad and opening up an investigation about the fire. Before you know it, your pack is growing in strength and numbers.”

“I do love the sound of your optimism.”

Stiles hummed. He tugged at the collar of Peter’s button-up shirt before he unbuttoned it. He went slow, one by one, aware that Peter’s focus is on him. He’ll probably give the Alpha a whiplash with how quick he changes the mood whenever they have their private conversations.

He untucked the shirt and finished off the remaining buttons before taking it off Peter. Stiles sighed as he caresses Peter’s chest. “Darling, I thought we’ve already decided that we won’t be having sex until you’re of legal age.”

“That depends on how you define having sex.” Stiles smiled at Peter, moving his hands down to his navel.

Peter let a smirk gracing his lips. “Cheeky, darling boy.”

“We could do a lot without having to take our pants off.” Stiles undid Peter’s belt. “We could do a lot more with our pants off.”

“Ah, to be a hormonal teenager.” Peter teased and Stiles—well, he isn’t having fun going through puberty twice.

“When was the last time you had someone touch you, Peter?” He asked, pulling the belt off Peter’s pants. “And, I mean, really touch you.” He pushed Peter down. The Alpha humoring him by going along with his antics. “You haven’t been sexually active for a very long time and I hear that werewolves—well, they just couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.” Stiles toed off his shoes and move to straddle Peter. “Do you think you’ll have better control over yourself than a virgin?”

Peter laughed. “Darling, we both reek of desperation. We will both lose this game.”

“Or, we’ll both win.” Stiles leaned forward and captured Peter’s lips between his. The past encounter had informed him that Peter likes to nibble and be nibbled at. He likes to leave bruises before soothing them with his warm tongue.

Stiles is also taking advantage of the fact that it has been years since Peter had been caressed sensually. That’s no secret. He started with rested both of his hands on Peter’s firm chest, then letting them brush along the man’s nipples—making Peter moan under him. Stiles moved his mouth on the patch of skin just under Peter’s ear, kissing it before sucking on it. He braced himself before grinding on top of Peter in slow motion.

“Stiles…” Peter’s hand landed on his hips. The Alpha bucked upwards as he pulls Stiles harder on him. Stiles can feel both of their member filling up and getting hard. It’s a good thing that Newt had taught him the cleaning charm because there is no way he’s not getting his pants dirty.

He felt Peter’s other hand slowly creeping under his shirt. He let out encouraging noises as he kisses his way down Peter’s chest. He started picking up the pace of his movement, loving the heat shared between their bodies.

The tent on their pants clued Stiles in that they’re both fully erect now. He groaned at that, filthy and demanding. He licked Peter’s nipple which caused the older man to whimper. Stiles—he’s starting to feel lightheaded. “Peter, Peter, Peter.” He called out.

The Alpha growled, flipping them over. He kissed Stiles’s neck, making sure to leave marks as he rutted against the younger man. Peter’s movement was close to frantic. Stiles wrapped his arms around Peter’s nape, making sure to be in tandem with each thrust.

“So good to me, Peter.” He moaned. “So fucking good to me.” He opened his eyes and saw Peter watching him closely—eyes red and fangs about to drop.

“Stiles, darling…” Peter sounded like he’s in pain. He’s grinding down harder on Stiles. “Your—your smell…it’s intoxicating.”

“Can you smell how much I want you?” Stiles buried his fingers on Peter’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer to himself. Peter’s hand went around the small of his back to his hips, keeping him in place as he moves faster—wilder. “Can you smell how close I am?”

“Yes, darling, yes.” Peter’s starting to sweat and Stiles has no doubt that he is, too.

Stiles shut his eyes tightly, feeling his balls tighten up. Peter growled—sensing it. A well-timed thrust got Stiles spilling inside his pants with a weak moan. Peter didn’t stop until he was dirtying himself along with a guttural sound that escaped his chest.

Peter stayed on top of him as they catch their breath. When he finally laid next to Stiles with a huff, they both were quiet. Basking in the aftermath.

“By the way,” Stiles spoke up the moment his breathing settled. “We’re going to need to decide which information we can share with Cora.”

“Darling, I wasn’t born yesterday,” Peter said pointedly. “Besides, she knows that as an Alpha I can’t share everything with her. It will be fine.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yo! I am writing like madman, I know, I know. But since the muse has granted me a vision of how and where the story should go, I took advantage of it! It's easier to write if you know what you're going to write than still trying to feel out what the muses wants from you. I hope everyone is still enjoying the story. It's hella long! God, how did this even came to be? Thank you to everyone who spends their time reading this monster of a story. I'll continue writing with enjoyment in mind and hopefully you enjoy reading this.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I do proofread it. Please, excuse the mistakes that gets pass me. It's difficult to be the writer and the editor both at the same time. On to the story...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff of Beacon Hills, Noah Stilinski, enters stage from the left.

Allison liked the simple celebration Newt had for his eighteenth birthday. As much as she thinks parties can be fun, she liked the intimate gathering that they had together. It means a lot to her, to be trusted. She wouldn’t do anything to ruin it, and she’s sure that the rest of her friends feels the same.

She was introduced to Cora, the female werewolf let out a relieved breath. Making comments about how she wouldn’t survive if there isn’t at least one other female in their circle of friends. Allison laughed at that and agreed. They hit it off and already have plans to go shopping together.

Minho scrunched up his nose when Stiles and Peter walked down the stairs together. Frypan cleared his throat, Cora was hiding a laugh, and Newt was looking between Peter and Stiles. While Isaac seems to just be as confused as her.

Allison heard a swooshing in the air. Her eyes widen at the sight of Peter holding a knife against the base of his neck. The older man’s eyebrows were raised at Gally. It doesn’t take a genius to realize who threw the knife.

“Oh, my God.” She couldn’t help but breathe out.

“Relax.” Cora nudged at her. “It would honestly take more than a knife to the throat to kill Peter.” It wasn’t as reassuring as Cora thought it would be, but Allison appreciates the effort.

“Words, Gally,” Peter said pointedly. “I thought we’ve learned how to use them.” It wasn’t said condescendingly, just fondly exasperated—which…baffles Allison.

“No penetrative sex until Thomas is eighteen,” Gally said through gritted teeth.

“Agreed.” Peter simply said.

Allison blushed at the thought of Peter and Stiles—nope. She’s not going there. It’s better if she doesn’t, but damn, Stiles bagged a handsome one. She unintentionally wondered if sex between a werewolf and a human is different from sex with two humans. It’s a question she might never know the answer to and she can’t be upset about it.

“Oh, my God!” Stiles let out a distressed noise. “The cleaning charm doesn’t cover the smell.”

“Well, werewolves do have superior olfactory sense than wizards,” Newt said. “And, can we please not spill blood on my birthday?”

“Sorry,” Gally muttered—almost embarrassed. Newt patted him on the shoulder in understanding.

Gally has always been protective of everyone in the pack. Allison noticed that he doesn’t particularly like it when someone mentions Minho’s…uh…assets in public. It is worse when it comes to Isaac, but it’s not like Isaac minds the overprotectiveness. In actuality, Isaac basks in it.

“That’s enough of that.” Frypan clasped his hands together. “Can someone magic the table? Also, a few more chairs?” He moves to take the food out of the over. Stiles takes it upon himself to do as Frypan requested. Allison helped Fry in preparing the food while the others set the table.

Dinner was a loud affair, full of laughs and humorous debates about useless things. While Allison always had dinner with her family, it was never like this. With that in mind, she realizes that dinners in their house aren’t like this one because her parents didn’t love one another. Glancing around her friends, she can see how much they care for one another. They are also open to caring for Cora even when she’s just a new addition to the pack.

It made her think of her Dad. She feels a little guilty leaving him alone on a Saturday night. Her eyes moved to Newt.

New cares—he cares with all that he has. He is open and honest. He carries his heart on his sleeve, but he is careful about who he will welcome inside his heart. He is the exact opposite of Allison’s mother. She knows people will find it twisted how she compares Newt to her deceased mother, but it’s hard not to with the level of care Newt had given her—not that her mother didn’t care for her, there was just a certain expectation on how she should be or should have been. Newt cares without expectation, he simply wants people around him to grow as a person. Newt is the kind of person that people would be lucky to have—and she just wants her Dad to be that.

She was so happy when her Dad told her that he asked Newt out. She’s a bit peeved that her Dad wants to give Newt the time to think about it, but that’s how her Dad is. He’d never force himself on someone, and even if anybody does admit to liking him, he’d want that person to be certain of their feelings.

Dinner was tucked away, and Newt was being shooed from the kitchen so that he won’t be part of the cleanup. Gally made it her job to make sure that Newt wouldn’t head down the basement to work, and he wouldn’t sneak inside the kitchen to help them clean. Newt rolled his eyes at them and decided to hang out in the backyard before they start their movie marathon.

The two of them sat on the steps, letting silence fall upon them as the sky change its hues. Orange to pink. Pink to purple. Purple to deep blue. The stars are revealing themselves for the world to see just how bright they twinkle.

Allison felt eyes on her. She turned her head and saw Newt staring at her intently. His face was set in contemplation, but it masks a level of determination in his eyes. She waited patiently for him to speak first.

“I…spoke to your Dad this morning.” Newt started. “I asked for his permission for you to join us tonight, and we…talked about another thing before I asked.” He sighed. “I don’t think there’s any other way I can tell you without…telling you everything.”

Allison reached out to her friend, holding his hand in hers. She decided to make things easier for Newt. “Dad told me about the kiss.”

“Oh, Merlin…” Newt let out a shaky sigh. “Yes, I didn’t want to keep that from you, but he’s your Dad and you’re my friend. I didn’t want to hurt you or our friendship and I also didn’t want to hurt your relationship with your Dad.”

“You were put in a tricky situation,” Allison said understandingly. “It’s a pretty big thing and Frypan did say that I have a temper. If you told me outright and I wasn’t open-minded enough, it could have hurt both relationships that I hold dear.” She let that wash over him. She didn’t want him to feel like he needed to ask for her forgiveness because he doesn’t. “You did the right thing.”

“Thank you for understanding.” Newt squeezed her hand. “Well, since you know about that…” he cleared his throat. “Your dad and I also had come to a small understanding over it. I apologize to him, thinking that I forced him—and he thought he forced me…It’s…a little silly, but we managed to make the each other understand that we…both wanted it, the kiss.”

“That’s good.” Allison smiled, knowing where this conversation is heading to.

“After that…” Newt’s face was turning pink. “…he asked me out—next Saturday. He said that he will wait for me in the park, from eight to twelve and that if I don’t come it means that I’m not interested.”

“Are you going?”

“I—That’s what I want to ask you.” Newt needed a moment to form the thought in his mind. “Can I date your Dad?”

“Why are you asking me?” Allison couldn’t help how the disbelief bleeds in her voice.

“Wouldn’t you find it weird? Me and your Dad?” Newt paused. “I would understand it if you’d rather we don’t, I’m sure he would also understand. Our friendship means a lot to me, I don’t want to lose you over this.”

“Oh, Newt.” Allison gave in and hugged her friend. “I feel the same way. And, I think it’s a good thing if you ended up with my Dad. It means you’ll be stuck with me—with us.” That got a laugh from Newt.

“Allison, it’s too early to tell.”

“Well, I’ll make sure you two do.” She jokingly threatened Newt. Though she would be making sure that their first date would be great, so there will be a next one.

Newt hugged her tighter. “Thank you.”

They were then called inside the house. Stiles made Newt choose a movie from his selection, though it was obvious that Stiles wanted Newt to choose one in particular. Even Minho is in the joke. Though the moment Newt heard that there’s a muggle movie about a Vampire and Werewolf, he was already intrigued. They spent the night watching the three Twilight films. It was amusing to see Newt laugh when Edward started sparkling.

* * *

‘Baby Brother,’ Newt read the first line of Lorcan’s and Lysander’s letter for him. ‘It was quite a shock to see your face in the newspaper. Lys sputtered his morning tea all over the kitchen table—‘ Newt noticed the droplets of ink that smudged the next words. ‘—do not believe him, baby brother.’ Newt couldn’t stop the smile that stretched his face. ‘Who would have thought that our baby brother would take America by storm? People have been talking about the Scamander who has been changing the Creature Law on a global scale—and you’ve only been away for a few months. What else do you have in mind? We’re so excited to see what else you’re going to do. We’re so proud of you! We just knew you would do great in your adventure.’

Newt shuffled the parchment in his hand, reading the second of the letter. ‘We are almost done in our Magical Law Apprenticeship. You can bet that once we’re done, we’ll start making big changes, too—not like the ones we did before. We will create changes that matter, just as you have. If you would ever need someone with the knowledge of Magical Law, don’t be shy about writing to us. You know we’ll be there in a blink. Also, happy birthday! We know you’ll be visiting MACUSA more often now. So, our gift is a brand new formal robe. You have to look your best when you face the camera. Your Twin Brothers, Lorc and Lys.’

Attach to their letter was a newspaper clipping of him—standing in the meeting hall of MACUSA next to Peter. He wonders if he can ask for a copy of the newspaper. He put that thought aside as he opens a letter from his father.

‘Little Badger,’ his father’s letter started—the same way it always has. ‘Did you know, before the Daily Prophet published the story about the Reintroduction of the Supernatural, I was called into my boss’s office? I thought I was going to lose my job. It turns out, he wanted me to be the very first one to have the copy of the next day’s edition.’ Newt tried to keep his emotions in check. ‘I can’t believe my eyes when I saw your picture. I all but ripped the newspaper from my boss’s hand and read it

‘When Minister Granger and Lord Potter came to our home months ago, telling me that they’ve sent you to America with a task from them, I didn’t think that it was this big. Your mom and I know that while this is a prestigious moment for you, this is also dangerous. As for your birthday gift, I have sent you a Swooping Evil. It will be delivered a week after this letter if I got the days correct. Love, your Dad.’

Newt’s not certain how the creature would fare against a bullet, but he can certainly use it to apprehend people. He will have to write to MACUSA about the creature, and for what it needs. He’s sure he can keep the one his Dad had sent him by citing a reason for protection.

He reached out for another letter on his desk. With a letter opener, he broke the seal of the letter. A pendant fell into his hands. Newt held it by eye level. The pendant was shaped like a wolf—howling towards a crescent moon. He quickly unfolded the letter from his Mom.

‘My Sweet Child,’ Newt read. ‘You must know by now that a mother doesn’t forget the day she brought to the world her child, nor does she forget the days previous to it. The night before you were born, I dreamt of a boy running with wolves. It is how I got your third name—Ulf. I knew that you’d have special friends. I know they will treat you right, wolves’ care for their packs after all.’ Newt couldn’t stop the shuddering breath that escaped his mouth. ‘I am happy that you are protecting your friends. Please, know that we will support you in this—not because protecting creatures is what we are known for, but because they are your friends and you care for them.’

Newt reached the second parchment. ‘I thought about what to give you long and hard. I thought about passing on your grandfather’s necklace but remembered that you don’t believe in the Deathly Hallows the same way he does. I thought of giving you a cork necklace of your own, but you’re very much protected from the Nargles. I decided on giving you a necklace that will stand for a part of you. They say that wolves are blessed by the mother moon, know that you are loved by your mother. I can feel your hardship and pain, I cannot take them away or shield you from them, but I will be here to offer strength. With love, Mom.’

Newt clasped the necklace around him, letting the white silver pendant rest on his warm skin. He misses his family, not the same way as he did when he was still attending Hogwarts. Back then, he misses them but is certain that he will see them over the holidays. This time, he’s not sure when he’ll be able to see them again.

He sighed at that thought, he has to remind himself that he’s doing this for all of them. There won’t be a second battle at Hogwarts. The Order of the Phoenix wouldn’t rise from its ashes. And, his family will live a long and happy life.

Newt’s ready to move to the second part of his personal project. Now that he has Allison’s support, and Chris’s affection—he has to make sure that the male Argent will be devoted to him. He has an idea of how he is going to achieve this. It will take a lot of planning and help from the Gladers.

He walked into the basement and saw Tommy hunched over the tome for potions. That got him raising an eyebrow. “What are you up to?” He asked as he approaches the other teen. Newt’s familiar with the potion that Tommy is reading about. “Does Peter need another dose?”

“No, no,” Tommy said with a sigh. “I’m just trying to read about the side effects of the potion if someone overdoses on it.”

“Is Peter showing signs?” Newt’s now alarmed at the thought. They can’t have an Alpha with differing personalities.

“No.” Tommy closed the book. “He just seemed…docile.”

Newt snorted at that. “Only to you. He’s a wanker to everyone else. Just this morning he threw Gally towards a tree when there’s a perfect mountain of dried leaves that he can land on.”

“Huh…” Tommy didn’t seem relieved, but at least he doesn’t look as worried as before.

He patted Tommy in the shoulder. “I’m on to the second phase of my personal project and I’ll be needing help. Mind if you give me a hand?”

Tommy let himself be led out of the basement. “You know, you gotta think of a name for your project. We can’t just keep calling it ‘your personal project.’ What about the Argent File?” Newt gave Tommy an unimpressed look. “Argent Project? Oh, I know! The Chris-ology—the study of Christopher Argent.”

“Let’s have a group vote for what name to use.” Newt indulged the Spark.

* * *

Minho watched the owl perch by the open window in the kitchen. There’s a rolled paper attached to its claws. For a minute they stare at each other. He swears the owl sneered at him. Playing it safe, he nudged Cora who was reading a book about the Wizarding World. He’s already done with it and got an ‘Okay’ from Newt that Cora can read it, too.

The female Hale narrowed her eyes at him. Minho pointed at the owl by the window and handed her some bird treats. With very expressive eyebrows, she manages to convey the question; 'why is she the one to do it?’

“Newt banned me from anything owl related.” Minho wasn’t even ashamed to admit it. “They’re mean towards me.”

“They can probably sense how much of a tool you are,” Cora said lightly but did as she was told anyway.

Minho gave her two thumbs up and a big smile. “It’s a lifelong dream.”

Cora snorted at him as she gives the owl its treat and takes the rolled paper. She handed it to him, and up close, Minho noticed that it’s a newspaper—a newspaper with moving pictures. “Wizard Newspaper arrived!” He yelled out for Newt as he spread it open. At the very center was a moving picture of Newt walking towards Peter Hale while they were inside some sort of meeting hall.

“A Supernatural Neglect.” Cora read the title with a bored tone. “It doesn’t have a ring to it.”

Newt came in, peered down the two of them to have a look, too. “Yes, there’s been some reforms in the…distribution of information through news articles. Back then, some journalists wrote sensationalized articles that can hardly be called news. So, the governments placed stricter laws—especially if the ones involved are minors.”

Peter joined them after a few moments. They didn’t need to be told, they just handed the newspaper towards him. “You didn’t tell me we’d make the news.”

“I wasn’t aware till I read my family’s letter to me,” Newt said. “My brothers sent me a clipping from the Daily Prophet, that’s the newspaper we have in Britain. Then, I texted my cousin, I asked him if he could subscribe me to the American Wizarding newspapers—which I learned from him is a lot. So, expect more owls to arrive.”

As if on cue, two more owls perched on the window. Minho and Cora stared at each other for a moment, before Newt let out a suffering sigh and be the one to give the owls the treat they deserve. Minho even heard him murmur sweet nothings to the owls as he feeds them. It was weird at first, seeing Newt coo at them.

Newt never coos at them in the Glade—he wasn’t this encouraging when it comes to the Gladers. The thought almost made Minho pout. It’s so weird to have a wolf inside his mind, but then again, the wolf inside him finds him weird, too. It’s even he supposes.

Peter hummed under his breath as he read the article about them. Minho finished off the last verse of the song he wants to recreate. He didn’t have any trouble remembering the words. It is a song that is so familiar to him that it’s practically engraved on his brain.

“The hunt never stopped for these creatures.” Peter read out loud. “There is no amount of compensation that will be enough for what they have lost. The best course of action we can do is to make sure that our laws wouldn’t ever be forgotten.” He folded the newspaper once more. “The public sympathizes with us. I’d say that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, well, this is the Wizarding World,” Newt said as he scans the articles about them in the other two newspapers. “One minute you’re the victim, the next you’re planning a coup.”

“Just like any other media then,” Minho commented.

“Let’s keep a close eye on what they say about us. If they start saying something bad, I can call on my brothers—they’re done with their Magical Law apprenticeship, and can help us with suing journalists.”

“Cora,” Peter called out to his niece. “If you could be the one to monitor the media’s perspective about us, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Sure thing,” Cora said easily.

Minho folded the music sheet in two. He tapped Newt by the shoulder and handed it to him. Newt took it with a curious frown on his face. The teen Wizard unfolded it and read the title of the song. Newt glanced at Minho. “You want us to play this?”

“When everyone’s free.” He said—hearing the front door open and close. Isaac walked in, and Gally was already heading down the stairs. Minho started clearing the table he was working on. “I’m thinking of looking for recording studios we can record all the original songs, also some of the rearrangements that I’ve made for some song covers. You know, canvass for a cheaper price.”

“Are you going to make an album?” Peter asked.

“That’s the plan.” Minho set aside his backpack.

Cora closed the book she’s reading, aware that it’s time for their training with Gally and Isaac. “Are you going to sell it?” Her eyebrows scrunched up together. “How are you going to sell it? It’s not like you’re a popular band. There are very few people who had heard you play.”

Minho shrugged. “We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.” They both got up from their chairs. “For now, it’s time to train, missy. I recall you saying you’ll wipe the floor with me.” He challenged.

“And, I will,” Cora said confidently.

“Well, that won’t be happening today,” Gally said with Isaac in tow. “Today is weapon’s training—guns and knives.”

“We don’t need guns and knives, hunters use those.” Cora pointed out. “We have claws.”

“Claws are for close-range fights, if the enemy has the advantage of distance, it’s stupid not to use guns just because it’s the same weapon hunters use,” Gally said to her. “And, knives can be used when we need to fight lethally with non-supernatural or non-magical people.”

“We could probably punch someone dead,” Cora said.

“Yes, and people will be asking just how come we’re that deadly strong.” Gally’s indulging her in having this mock of a debate. He can use his authority over her, but that wouldn’t be good for the pack. “It will make people take a closer look. We don’t need that. So, weapons training inside the case.”

“What case?” Cora asked.

Minho’s almost vibrating with excitement.

* * *

Noah would like to say that he knows his son better than most fathers know theirs. That wasn’t always the case. There was a time wherein Noah lost himself in the bottom of a bottle and Stiles was forced to grow up to take care of the two of them. It was far from Noah’s finest moment. Still, they pull through and healed from the loss—closer than they were before.

He noticed the subtle changes in his son throughout the months that passed by. There’s a presence of loss that hangs around Stiles, not as heavy as the loss of his mother, but a loss all the same. He can tell that it’s due to the separation of Scott from his son.

From what he learned from Melissa, it seems like the two boys now have different sets of friends. Noah would admit that he wasn’t happy about it at first, but there was a level of maturity in Stiles now that he has a different group of friends. He would never blame Scott for Stiles’…disobedience back then, but it goes to show that they weren’t good for each other.

Melissa had shared the instance Scott was invited to a party and came home drunk. She’s still livid about it, she doesn’t know why her son is acting out. When Melissa asked about Stiles, Noah told her that he’s mostly been hanging out with the ambassadors’ kids. He told her about the band they have, and meeting the kids around the town. He’s always greeted with a happy, ‘Hey, Sheriff Stilinski!’ But he has never seen the boys hanging out inside his house.

She asked if Stiles has been acting out the same way as Scott. Noah almost felt guilty saying ‘no’, but Stiles hasn’t been acting out. Noah shared that Stiles has kept up with his studies, with his house chores, and sometimes going overboard with cooking healthy food—but nothing that can be considered out of the ordinary. He felt bad with the sad look in Melissa’s eyes.

Then, he remembered Stiles saying that they’re going to be talking about something. He mentioned that to Melissa and said that he’s holding his breath that it isn’t a bad thing. “I’m hoping it’s just a boyfriend—I’ll lose my mind if Stiles is in some kind of a gang.” It was already out of his mouth before he even caught himself thinking it. Melissa’s sad eyes are now wide with shock. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that? It’s Stiles’s right to decide who should and shouldn’t know.” At least that’s what he read.

The night Stiles told him that he’s attracted to both boys and girls, Noah dived into a research binge—yes, Stiles got it from him. He’s afraid of accidentally hurting his son, so he thought that it’s better if he educates himself about the manner. People can say that he’s a busy father, but damn if they say that he isn’t an accepting father. He can imagine Claudia’s disappointed face if he ever turns his back on Stiles just because he loves people despite their gender.

“Do you think—“Melissa hesitated. “Do you think it’s why he and Scott…” She let her question hang in the air, unfinished.

“I hope not.” He told her honestly. He can deal with the inevitable growing up and growing apart, he will be hurt in half of Stiles if that’s the reason why they’re not best friends anymore.

Noah went home that night, hearing guitar strumming from the doorway and his son’s voice being carried by air. He half wonders if Stiles can remember his mother’s singing. He walked careful steps as to not give himself away, and disturb the singing.

“…yeah, I’ve got the lines, I’ve got the lines.” Stiles’s voice was as soft as a mother’s caress to a newborn. “Oh, it’s brighter this. And, this type of mine—this disguise. Oh, you talk, ooh, to me.” There was the slightest pause.

Stiles’s face was scrunched up due to an unnamed emotion that’s coursing through him because of the song. “Well, nothing’s gonna hurt me with my eyes shut. I can see through them, I can see through them. And, I am drawing pictures, I’m evading. I will not use them, I will not use them.” There came a roughness in Stiles’s tone. “’Cause I want to be bigger than life for you, for you. ‘Cause I want to be bigger than life for you, for you.”

Noah’s not sure what came over him, but the last line of the song reflected something true inside him. He couldn’t help but sniffle. It caused Stiles to open his eyes. It was wide as Stiles stares at Noah, the older man couldn’t help but laugh at his son’s expression. It was worse than when Noah catches his son doing something close to a crime.

“That was…good.” He cleared his throat. “One of your original songs?” Noah asked since he’s never heard it before but isn’t completely sure what kids nowadays listen to. The thought made him feel so old.

“Yeah.” Stiles placed the guitar to one side—awkward in his movement. “We’re not…going to talk ‘feels’, are we?”

“Feels?” Noah’s brows furrowed. “Is that what kids call it now?”

Stiles’s smile came quickly with their usual banter. “Only the cool ones.”

“Why are you using it?”

“That’s how you’re going to play it, huh, old man. I’m canceling Frypan’s plan of having soul food for tomorrow’s dinner—“

“Hey!” Noah made token protests, he knows that Stiles’s isn’t one to cancel plans that he had prepared a week for. “I’m sure you’re all cool now with your band.” He made air quotation on the word ‘cool’.

Stiles snorted a laugh. “Fine, but you’re going to eat salad, too.”

“I always eat salad.”

Stiles gave him a look that says he doesn’t believe Noah. “Uh-huh.” His son got up from his seat. “I’m going to cook something extra health tonight to make up for all the grease you’re going to eat tomorrow.”

Noah rolled his eyes at his son, but let Stiles do as he pleases in the kitchen. As he walks up the stairs of their home, Noah couldn’t help but hum the song under his breath.

* * *

One thing Stiles hates more than vacuuming is cleaning the vacuum filter. He made a frustrated sound as the back of his throat before coughing and sneezing uncontrollably. His body is so confused about what it should do first that he just did both at the same time while letting out the loudest cough-sneeze his body can conjure. Along with the noise is the bodily fluid.

He walked back inside the house. He’s done with the top floor and living room. Stiles thank God, Jesus, and Merlin for that. He needs to mop the kitchen, and he thinks mopping is better than vacuuming.

Before mopping, he started opening up cupboards—taking pictures of what pans they have and sending them to Frypan so that the cook has an idea of what to bring to help him in cooking. Peeking at the oven, Stile knows he’s going to have to give it extra attention. He grabbed everything that he needs and got to it.

Now, most would say he’s a nervous cleaner—and Stiles is honest enough to agree. He’s not nervous about the werewolves having a sudden bout of dizziness anymore. But, he is nervous about how his Dad will react to his son being magical. He just hopes there won’t be much yelling—he hates it when his Dad yells.

After cleaning everything he can get his hands on, he noticed that it’s just time to meet with the Gladers in the grocery store. He quickly showered, didn’t bother completely drying his hair before getting in his jeep and driving off. He arrived in time and Frypan instructed them what they need to get and where they could get it. The only ones who weren’t there were Peter and Cora, and that’s because they checking out the progress of the packhouse, and Isaac, his Dad is noticing that he’s been out more often than he used to.

Since he’s familiar with the brands Frypan uses, he is tasked to get the condiments and canned goods they would need. Newt is with him and familiarizing himself with the names of the brands. The teen wizard still can’t comprehend why one condiment has different brand names. Stiles explained why, and their conversation was directed to America’s economy and Newt’s expression of horror was satisfying.

“Wait till Trump gets elected.” Stiles grabbed the third jar of mayonnaise—because Frypan’s recipe needs three jars, Jesus.

“Who’s Trump?”

Stiles’s head snapped to the side, where Newt is standing next to him, subtly using magic to reach for that bottle of ketchup. “First, there are CCTV cameras—just grab a ladder. Second, the moment we have free time, we’re binging The Apprentice. It’s his show.”

“Is it funny?” Newt asked as he pulls the ladder to them. “And, he’s an actor-president? Muggles can do that?”

The picture of Arnold Schwarzenegger popped into Stiles’s mind. “No, he’s a businessman.” He answered instead. “And, it’s hella funny. We should also watch Gordon Ramsey’s shows—you’ll love those, he’s English.”

“An English actor?”

“No, an English chef.” The confusion in Newt’s face—God, Stiles wishes he could freeze it in a frame.

He then proceeded to explain to Newt that not everyone whose face pops up on the television screen is an actor or actress. He introduced reality TV to Newt and promised they’d watch The Kardashians and the Bachelor. He needs to see how Newt will react to those. Halfway through their conversation, Stiles realized what Newt is doing. His best friend is distracting him from tonight’s events by making him talk about trivial things.

“We have to know what type of movie you are in to, though.” He commented.

Newt smirked. “I like to watch those movies with magical creatures. I want to know how muggles see them.”

“Oh, God.” They joined the rest of the Gladers by the cashier, handing Frypan what he asked for. “There are like a million versions of Dracula—the well-known vampire. And, the myths about werewolves—don’t get me started on those.”

“We should look for all the dumb versions of Dracula and werewolves and make Newt watch it,” Minho suggested.

“Will it be as funny as Twilight?” Newt asked, handing the ATM to Frypan.

Gally snorted. “You’re going to develop terrible taste in movies.”

“Sharknado, though.” Stiles pointed out.

“Hasn’t been released,” Gally informed him, hesitating for a minute before speaking his mind. “Sharktopus was last year.”

“Oh!” Minho lets out the familiar sound that he makes whenever he thinks he has a great idea. Stiles would give it to him, he sometimes does. “We should do movie nights, but only stupid shows—like, our brains would melt level of stupid.”

“Stupid films are what paved the way for good films.” Stiles defended. They then all fell into a debate on what should be considered a stupid film.

Once they were done with shopping, they all headed to the Stilinski residence. The moment they walked inside the door, Minho started sniffing the air around the place. Stiles half expected him to rub his privates all over to scent mark the whole house.

He gave simple directions where to find what and Frypan went ahead to commandeer the kitchen. Stiles saw Newt reading the titles of the DVDs by the television. Minho’s practicing the strumming on the guitar. Gally’s going through the old magazines that they have. They would be called inside the kitchen, now and then, to give Fry a hand.

It wasn’t long before they heard a car being parked. Stiles answered the door, Peter smiled at him and Cora held up a tub of ice cream. He let them in and just as Peter did with the house of the Gladers, he’s observing just how clean the entire place is. Cora’s pretty simple though, he went straight to the kitchen and Stiles heard Frypan forbidding her from dipping her sticky fingers into anything.

“Are you ready?” Peter asked him, aware that they don’t have much time before his father arrives.

“As I can ever be.” He answered simply and accepted the chaste kiss from Peter. Ignoring Minho’s ‘get a room’ comment on the back.

Stiles’s nerves are building back up as the minutes tick by. The Gladers try to keep him distracted but it only did so much for him. Peter was more physical in his attempt to calm Stiles down, but he knows that Peter wouldn’t be so free with his touches once his father arrives.

Minho coughed up when Stiles heard the engine of his Dad’s cruiser. He’s pretty sure it’s his anxiety that Minho is smelling in the air. Peter gave him one last encouraging caress and Newt got his game face on. His Dad entered the house and saw the solidarity between all of them. Though, his Dad’s eyes narrowed just a tiny bit at Peter. Probably remembering his comment about the biceps.

Shit, Stiles internally swore.

* * *

Noah didn’t become the county’s Sheriff through sheer hard work. He doesn’t want to blow his own horn, but he has instincts when it comes to dangerous people. The man inside his living room—Peter Hale, has always rung the alarms inside his head.

The man has always been polite, Noah would go as far and say Peter’s charming. But there’s an underlying predatory vibe that he gives off—or can give off if he wants to. Noah had witness Peter intimidate grown men into silence with just a smirk. Having Peter inside his house, sitting close to his son, doesn’t bode all that well.

He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, nor openly doubt his son. So, he let Stiles take the lead for the evening. Noah tried to enjoy the food as much as he can, giving compliments to Frypan. He joined in the conversation, trying to keep the questions to a minimum. He doesn’t want to think that the boys are in a gang, they’re genuine in trying to win him over.

Once dinner was tucked, and dishes were washed they all relocated to the living room. Stiles sits down, stood up, and started pacing all in ten seconds. All eyes were on him, especially Noah’s.

Stiles turned to him with an unsure expression—something that Noah thought that he had grown out of. “Don’t shoot anyone.”

Noah’s brows hiked up his hairline. “Not a promising start, but I’ll try my best.” That got Stiles grimacing.

“What I’m going to tell you is going to seem…crazy—it’s going to make me seem crazy.” Stiles started. “But—but know that I’m not lying. I promise I’m not lying. I admit of keeping this from you, but intending to let you know once we…we got a lid on…stuff—some stuff that needed putting a lid on.”

“Oh, Jesus…” Minho murmured on the side.

Stiles glared at his friend before continuing. “I’m going to start with…simple facts.” There was a pause. “Okay, so…Not much is simple.” He let out a breath. “The guys—meaning Fry, Gally, Newt, and Minho, they’re not sons of ambassadors—they are the ambassadors. Ambassadors of what—well, that’s the…start of the crazy.” Stiles looks like he’s trying to find the right word, but found that there’s only one word for it. “They’re the ambassadors of the Magical world in the reintroduction of the Supernatural to Newt’s community.”

Noah stares at his son. The nervousness he is exuding could easily put him into a panic attack. Noah realizes that Stiles is dreading how he will react. Thinking of it, he understands why Stiles would be nervous. Most parents would probably start yelling and accusing their kids of lying by this point of the conversation. Well, Noah would like to think he’s not like most parents. Stiles promised he isn’t lying, and Stiles had always been careful about what he promises.

“Okay, kid.” He took in a steadying breath. “I need you to run that by me again—with a bit more details.” The relief on Stiles’s face and action were palpable. Noah guesses he said the right thing.

“Uhm—let’s start with how and why they became ambassadors.” Stiles proceeded on with telling Noah how the boys’ family and pack were killed. How they were taken by some unknown organization and was experimented on. How they escaped and how Newt’s government thought that it was only prudent to send them into a diplomatic mission to unite the Supernatural and Magical for them to better protect each other.

Stiles continued by explaining why Peter was needed for their cause. How Peter traveled all over to get the other werewolf pack to agree to form a council. How Peter is representing the whole of the werewolf community in the Magical World.

Noah quickly connected the dots. “The Hale fire wasn’t an accident.”

“Indeed, Sheriff,” Peter answered with a bitter smile. “It was an attack and we sought to bring justice to the person responsible.”

“I understand why you need to inform me.” Noah nodded. “I’ll open the case and make sure to personally investigate the fire.”

“You have my thanks.” Peter was gracious.

“What I don’t understand is my son’s involvement.” Noah couldn’t help by pointing it out. “You could have come to me, sat me down—just like this, and show me evidence that you’re a werewolf. Stiles didn’t need to be involved in all of these, especially with how dangerous it is.”

“Tom—I mean, Stiles…” Newt piped up. “…will be involved either way. He’s not ordinary.”

Noah glanced back at his son. “Have you grown claws and fangs and didn’t tell me?” He tried to make the situation lighter than it really is.

“He is something rare.” Again, Newt was the one to speak up. “He is something that both the Magical and Supernatural hadn’t had the…honor or privilege to see in years.”

“And, what exactly is my son?” Noah felt a creeping sensation at his nape.

“I’m a Spark, Dad,” Stiles answered. “It’s…it is someone who is purely made out of magic. My skin, my blood, my everything—is magic and that makes me capable of magic.”

“Made of…” Noah can’t wrap his head around it. “I—“

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Stiles said to him. “Believing is hard when you don’t see it, so I’ll show you. Just…try to keep calm.”

Noah merely nodded at that. He watched as his son held up his hand, snap his fingers and a small ball of fire was resting on top of his thumb. It took the air from Noah’s lungs. He knows he’s staring agape, and his expression probably worsens when the fire grew bigger—big enough to envelop the entirety of Stiles’s hand. His son blew on the fire, instead of being extinguished it parted from his hands, transforming the orange flame into autumn dried leaves that are being carried by the wind. Noah followed the movement of the leaves till it once again transformed into orange butterflies midair. It fluttered around the room, finding him and bursting into glitters and dissolving into nothing before it hit the floor.

He looked back at his son, amazement and wonder etched in his face. “How?”

“Newt’s been teaching me,” Stiles answered sheepishly.

Noah sighed. His son is involved in something more than he ever thought. “Here I was hoping you’re just going to tell me you have a boyfriend.”

The only female in the room—Cora cleared her throat in an attempt to cover up a laugh, but Minho’s nudging of her gave her away. Noah raised an eyebrow at them. As expected, it was Stiles to broke first. “It’s not exactly boyfriend.”

* * *

Peter doesn’t at all like the scent of anxiety coming off Stiles. It ruins his darling’s intoxicating scent. He understands why the revelation of Supernatural and Magical can be nerve-wracking. But, Stiles’s scent worsens when the word ‘boyfriend’ came out of his father’s mouth.

Boyfriend—Peter thought the word to be too juvenile to describe what they are to each other. A boyfriend is someone who’s…commitment isn’t as serious as one would like to think. And, Peter is nothing but serious when it comes to his relationship with Stiles. He’s willing to endure a year and a half of no penetrative sex. Do they know how much the thought alone makes his skin itch and his wolf snarl in want to claim? Fooling around with Stiles would ease the itch and want, but it could also worsen it. It’s a double-edged sword.

“We have been honest with you so far, Sheriff.” He took the lead in discussing his relationship—courtship with Stiles. His darling boy was willing enough to rely on him on this point. “I am not Stiles’s boyfriend—I am his courter.”

“Courter?” The word seemed to be a foreign concept to the man.

“Yes, I am wooing Stiles in a desire to have his hand in marriage in the future.” He figured it is better not to mince words.

He watches as Noah struggle to digest that information without immediately screaming his head off. “Marriage? Marriage.” Noah repeated the word with a different inflection. “He’s sixteen—he shouldn’t be thinking of marriage yet.”

“I agree,” Peter said easily enough. “That’s why I said, ‘in the future’. Right now, I am trying to prove myself to your son through our courtship—according to werewolf tradition. With you knowing about both the Supernatural and Magical, it means that I will be able to prove myself to you, too. This fact brings me joy because I know that you will make sure that I do and give the best for Stiles. Your son deserves nothing less.” Eloquence, not many people give it thought but it’s a weapon of a smart man.

“And, if I or Stiles think that you don’t deserve his hand in—in marriage, what then?” Noah asked.

Peter heard the distressed noise Stiles tried to hide. He doesn’t think that Stiles wouldn’t agree to be married to him. Peter would make sure to get the Sheriff’s approval because it seems important to his darling boy. “I’d be…incomplete, but I would respect Stiles’s decision. His place in my pack would stay the same.”

“Incomplete.” Noah pointed out—just as sharp as his son, Peter should have known. “You didn’t just pluck that word out in your mind. This…courtship you have with Stiles isn’t as simple as it seems, is it?”

Peter tilted his head to the side, trying to look for the right words. It’s always difficult to explain to a normal human a wolf’s instinct. “On the contrary, it is as simple as it seems. Without Stiles I’d feel incomplete—not entirely myself but not completely lost either. I can find ways to be contented but happiness will never be in store for me.”

He paused, pondering if he should continue. “It is how werewolves are when they find the person their inner wolves deem their mate. I wouldn’t say that the human part of us is a slave to it, but there’s very little we can do about it. Whoever would say no to a chance to be with the person that is undoubtedly perfect for you? I sure wouldn’t. There is only trying to prove ourselves to be worthy.”

“But, why?” Noah asked him. “Why Stiles?”

Peter shrugged. “Why not Stiles? He’s protective, fiercely loyal, intelligent, determined, and brave, he understands pack and all the other qualities that would have made him a wonderful werewolf. I don’t doubt that if Stiles was a werewolf, he would have been an Alpha.” He can see Noah being softened by his word. “For a more personal reason, Stiles saved me.”

Noah nodded at him with respect. “As long as you don’t step a toe out of line, we’ll get along.” He then trained his eyes on Stiles. “I know I can’t expect complete obedience from you, but don’t do anything that is against the law.”

“Dad, I won’t break your trust like that or put Peter in that kind of trouble,” Stiles stated with levity. “I’ve told you before.”

“It’s better to be clear about things.” Noah insisted.

“Now that the talk of courtship is out of the way.” Newt piped up after clearing his throat. “There’s another matter that should be discussed this evening.”

Stiles sighed. “Besides the investigation of the Hale Fire, we would need your help on a magical level, too.” He said to Noah. “There’s an old tree here in Beacon Hills—well, it’s more apt to say that it used to be a tree, now it’s just a stump. Anyway, it is a thousand-year-old tree-stump that got infected by darkness. It’s been calling out to different kinds of Supernatural creatures, and it hasn’t been the good kind—“

“The increasing number of animal attacks.” Noah put the puzzle together.

“Got it in one!” Stiles snapped his fingers at his Dad. “The tree-stump—which we call the Nemeton, is reaching out not because it wants to bring death and destruction. It wants to be cleansed. So, when my…magic—always so weird to say, manifested it also called into me. With the help of Newt, we found out that the reason for the Nemeton’s darkness and took it out, it only needs to be cleansed now. To do that, we need three people present for the ritual. A witch—me, a werewolf—Peter, and a warrior who has been protecting the place for over a decade—you.”

Noah ran a hand over his face, struggling with the information being dropped on his lap. “Once it’s cleansed there will be fewer…creatures?”

“Not really.” It was Newt who answered this time. “The creatures that will make their way here would probably the nicer kind.”

“Well, so long as bodies don't start dropping dead, I guess.” Noah sighed. “When are we going to cleanse the magic tree-stump?”

Peter supposes that’s the best they’re going to get. There wasn’t any yelling done, the father-son duo didn’t fight, and Peter got the Sheriff’s tentative approval. He’ll take it—for now. He’s just going to have Noah see that he’s the one for Stiles, too.

* * *

Cora would be the first one to admit that she isn’t the girly girl type. She may have a sister, but her and Laura’s age difference is far enough to be significant. The two of them didn’t have the time to play dolls, and Cora’s pretty sure she would have torn apart any doll that’s given to her. She’s a born werewolf dammit, give her something to fight.

Her boyishness deterred other girls from being friends with her—also most of the boys. She learned how to be fine on her own from a very young age. She didn’t mind because she knew that being alone doesn’t mean anyone is lonely. She knew that to be true because of her Uncle Peter.

It was refreshing to meet a girl that doesn’t mind her…overall roughness. Allison doesn’t mind that she’s growly, and she had developed a no-nonsense attitude. Allison respects it—respects her. Allison also sympathizes with what happened to her family, but the other girl never looked at her with pity.

Cora likes that Allison is also not a girly girl type, she doesn’t think she’ll be friends with her if she was. Still, Allison knows how to dress nice—not like her, that’s fine with a shirt and pants. Allison is polite in her honesty, Cora has a feeling that she gets that from Newt but Cora kept quiet about it.

Her Uncle Peter gave her a card to use for their shopping. Cora rolled her eyes when he told Allison to make sure that Cora gets some fashionable pieces, too. Allison merely giggled and said that they’d get something that makes Cora stand out but also comfortable for her to be in. Cora voice out that she just needs extra clothes because Minho has been ripping the clothes off her body. The Left Hand was quick to assure Peter that it’s during training. Peter gave Cora a pointed look when she was slow in hiding her smirk.

Cora showered quickly and wasn’t all surprised when Frypan would be the one to drive them to the mall. She was surprised when Allison told Frypan that she would just text them when they’re done with shopping. She thought she’d be the third wheel, but she supposes she should have thought better of Allison. Frypan agreed easily enough with a kiss on Allison’s cheek, and a pat on the head for Cora.

Allison looped their arms together and started walking towards a store. Cora was ready to voice out any complaint that she thinks would come their way, but Allison knows enough about Cora that she didn’t bother with cute outfits. Allison focused on simple shirts that fit her. Some shirts are plain and others have prints on them. Allison chose some pastel color shirts that don’t completely irritate Cora’s eyes.

As for pants, Allison got her simple blue jeans, black jeans, some skinny jeans that have 'rips' on them. Allison then held up a short. “Opinions on shorts.” She asked with a serious expression.

“Uh…comfortable during summer,” Cora answered simply. It seemed to be a satisfying enough answer for Allison to get a few, also grabbing one short that looks like a skirt on the front.

Slowly they move from one store to another, bags in their hands increasing in numbers. Allison sighed. “I shouldn’t have made Fry leave—he would have carried these for us.”

“I can carry the heavy stuff.” Cora volunteered.

“It’s not that.” Allison placed the bags on the floor as she flipped through the rack of the new store they are in. “Putting it down and picking it up is a waste of time. Ooh, look!” She pulled out a leather jacket that Cora could pull off.

“We are so buying that,” Cora muttered and Allison let out a giddy laugh as they walk further into the store.

Looking around them, Cora noticed clothing pieces that she liked, though she doesn’t know if it would suit her. She was never picky about what she wears, as long as it’s suitable in the public’s eyes then she’s okay with it. She never minded all those girls who commented on her clothing since it seemed so unimportant to her. Now, she’s rethinking his opinions about fashion.

“I can see your eyes wandering,” Allison said to her. “What’s stopping you from grabbing the things you want?”

“I’m just…not sure if it would look good on me,” Cora admitted with a bit of a blush on her face. “I’m not good with…these.” She vaguely waved her hands in the air.

“That’s why you got me.” Allison smiled at her. “Take what you like, then we’ll take our time in the dressing room to see if it looks good. Though I’m telling you now, I think most of the clothes here would look fabulous on you. I mean, you and Peter are just so good-looking, it’s borderline illegal.”

Cora faked a shiver. “Don’t compliment Uncle Peter’s looks when you are around me. He’s my Uncle, it’s weird.”

“Weirder than him courting Stiles?”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me.”

Cora grabbed the black shirred blouse on the rack. She took a step towards the next rack and took the black skinny jeans, and on the other rack—a red plaid shirt that would envelop her. On the far end of the store, there was a display of shoes. Cora liked the knee-high boots that look sturdy enough to survive a run in the preserve.

Allison stared at the items that she grabbed. There’s a light in Allison’s eyes that clued Cora in that the other girl has some sort of epiphany. “I think I’m starting to understand what kind of style you want to have.”

They went through the store like a whirlwind. Allison was encouraging her to take more items that she likes. Cora listened to Allison’s suggestions now and then, and soon they’ve amassed a questionable number of items. Cora was then shoved inside a dressing booth with Allison handing her clothing items to try. She would put them on, show them to her friend, and they would both stare at her in the mirror. Allison kept to one side the clothes that they would buy, and to the other items that they both thought wasn’t comfortable enough to wear—because Allison was right when she said most of the clothes looked good on Cora.

Allison made her change into the black, Mandarin collared dress with sleeves reaching Cora’s forearm and the hem falling down an inch above her knee. It was paired with wedge shoes that have spikes on the back of the heel. Cora was told to keep it on instead of changing back to what she originally wore when they entered the store.

Allison pulled her to a make-up store, sure about the items that she’s going to buy. Cora was then shoved to a chair—she would have minded it if it weren’t for the excitement coming off from Allison. As the other girl do her make-up, Allison explains which item is for and how to use them. Cora thought that it would be complicated, Allison told her that there is simple everyday make-up and there are those for occasions only make-up. Allison made it clear what she’s teaching Cora.

Allison spun the chair with a flourish, and Cora opened her eyes. She had to blink a few times just to make sure that she’s looking at herself. “I’m not a fashion guru,” Allison said to her. “I just…choose the clothes that would show your style, and the make-up is just to highlight your features.”

“Uncle Peter’s going to flip.” Cora couldn’t help but comment.

They called Frypan to help them with the bags, his expression towards the fashion change was positive. He complimented Cora about the dress and said something about Gally going to be just as protective towards her the same way Gally is protective of Isaac. As they park the car, Frypan told Allison to ready her phone to record everyone’s reaction. Cora rolled her eyes at that, but she’s smiling.

Cora walked into the house and it was Stiles and Newt who first saw her. Newt’s brows were raised, both amused and impressed, from the way he looks. Stiles’s eyes were wide at her, and his mouth opens into a silent ‘Woah’. Gally walked in from the kitchen, brows furrowed at her first, then he let out a sigh—muttering under his breath about teenage hormones.

From the basement, her Uncle appeared. Peter stared at her, up and down, there was approval in his eyes. He nodded at her. “You’ll be popular in the next school year.” He proclaimed.

“I don’t want to be popular.” She told him. She’s fine with having the Pack and Allison.

Minho walked down the stairs, violin case in his hands as he hum. He looked up and his eyes widen—well, as wide as it can get Cora supposes. “Oh, my God.” He exclaimed. “You’re a girl!”

Cora sticks her tongue out, then said. “You’re just jealous because you’re not as pretty as I am.”

Minho let out a bark of a laugh. “You don’t even know the number of girls and boys that talk about how good-looking I am.”

“Let’s not go that far.” Newt piped up teasingly. “They talk about your butt, not your face.”

“Hey!” Minho defended himself. “They still talk about wanting to get with me.”

Cora narrowed her eyes at him.

“I can feel the plot of stupid kicking in,” Gally muttered as he sat on the sofa.

“How do you feel about a bet?” Cora asked Minho with a smirk.

“Most invites to a dance in the upcoming school year,” Minho suggested.

“The loser will be the winner’s personal slave for a month,” Cora added.

“No.” Peter admonished. “Just a week.” He added quickly. “You two might kill each other after a month.”

“Fine.” Cora huffed like a brat.

“Should we seal this bet with magic?” Stiles smiled from where he’s sitting.

“No need,” Minho said coolly. “This one is between two werewolves.”

“I’ll make you do things you will regret.” Cora threatened him.

“And, I’ll make you do things you won’t forget.” Minho gave her that usual eye-smile that only he can give. For a moment, Cora asked herself if this is what it’s like to be close to a brother.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First dates are a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah! It took me a while to write Chapter15, but I finished it, and here's chapter14. I don't want to give any spoilers for Chapter15 about why it was hard to write. Let's move on from that. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story. It's hella massive now. God only knows when it's going to be done. I'm still enjoying myself, and I hope you guys are, too.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, I do my own proofreading. Please, do pardon the mistakes that get past me. On to the story...

Newt double-checked the potion that Tommy brewed. The color and consistency were perfect, but to be certain that it is—Newt sprinkled powdered beetle legs on the cauldron. A blood-red smoke erupted from the potion. It didn’t only let Newt know that Tommy brewed the needed potion correctly, it’s also a show of Tommy’s growing skill in brewing potions.

“In no time you’ll be brewing Liquid Luck of your own.” He said to Tommy as he turns off the fire and covers the cauldron. They need the whole thing for the cleansing of the Nemeton.

“Stop it, you’ll make me blush.” Tommy followed him out of the house.

In the front yard, the members of the pack along with the Sheriff was waiting for them. Minho was staring at a motorbike with Cora and Peter next to him. Newt walked next to them while Tommy went to his Dad. He stared at the bike, then at the three staring at it. Peter has a proud smile on his face, Cora’s smug, and Minho’s expression was one of surprise.

“Why are you staring at the bike?” Newt asked.

“Minho requested to have a bike for his transportation,” Peter answered him. “So, I got him a bike.”

“I was thinking more like a bicycle.” Minho voiced out a bit faint.

“Oh…” Peter breathed out. Cora was now laughing her head off.

“Well, just imagine going to school with the motorbike,” Newt said to Minho. “More students will find you attractive because of it.”

Minho smiled at that. “Yeah, you’re right.”

That got Cora huffing and turning to Peter. “I want a cool car.” She demanded.

“Only after you have learned how to drive,” Peter told her.

Newt passed his car keys to Frypan, he would be riding at the back of Gally’s car because he will be holding the cauldron for the whole ride. He charmed the cauldron to not spill, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Everyone took that as a cue to get inside their cars—the Sheriff riding with Tommy, Peter with Gally and Isaac inside the pick-up, Frypan, Minho, and Cora in his car.

They arrived in the preserve and they hid their cars well enough from the eyes of passers-by. Newt and Tommy led the way to the Nemeton, making sure that they are all walking close to each other, that way no one will be left behind and lost because the Nemeton isn’t welcoming to those who don’t have magic in them.

They reach the Nemeton, from the pack’s expression, they are not impressed by the large tree stump. Newt’s pretty sure that the Nemeton isn’t impressed by them, too, but he kept that to himself. He placed the cauldron on the ground and gestured for the Sheriff and Peter to join him and Tommy by the Nemeton.

“We are going to draw runes on the stump.” Tommy started explaining the procedure. “After that, we are going the draw the same runes on our skin. That means we will need to take off our shirt because it’s a lot of runes.”

“Then, Tommy will lock the three of you from the inside using a circle Mountain Ash. The three of you will stand in a triangle form and Tommy will say the words for the ritual. The two of you only have to relax, you will feel magic running up and down your veins. It may cause Peter to shift into his werewolf form—so, Sheriff, don’t panic if you start seeing a massive werewolf. It may also cause the Sheriff to feel…exuberant, and look just a few years younger.”

“What?” The Sheriff has a funny expression on his face. “How many years younger?”

“Five to ten—don’t worry I can give you an amulet to disguise your appearance if the difference is too much.” From his pocket, Newt pulled out two paintbrushes. He handed one to Tommy. “Start from the North going in a circle counter-clockwise. I’ll start south, going clockwise. We’ll meet two feet from the center, then start the triangular lines for the runes. Then, at the middle draw the Hale pack symbol—you have to be the one to do that because you’re the emissary.”

Tommy used the cover of the cauldron to get some of the potion, that way he doesn’t have to walk to and fro Newt just to dip his brush. Peter was silently observing them, same with the Sheriff as the rest of the pack blabber on the background. They needed to be there to bear witness to the whole cleansing ritual. If they do this right, the Nemeton will be creating a connection with Peter, Tommy, and the Sheriff. The three of them will completely be tied to the land, the Nemeton will give them strength and they will be giving it back to the Nemeton. It will seem like a never-ending echo of power.

After an hour, they were done with writing the runes on the stump. Newt felt his bones pop as he straightens his back. Tommy let out a groan of relief.

Newt walked over to Tommy. “Shirt off, shank.”

“So seductive,” Tommy muttered mockingly, but he did as he was told.

Newt started at the very corner of Tommy’s shoulder. He wrote the runes in circles—just like what he did on the stump, soon most of Tommy’s torso is covered with runes. He looked at Tommy, then whispered. “You should do the Sheriff’s runes. The man may not smell arousal, but you and Peter exude sexual tension everywhere you go.”

“Oh, my God.” Tommy’s expression isn’t horrified but he definitely wants to avoid any awkward conversation.

Peter shed his top with ease, unashamed. The Sheriff was more hesitant, but he did what was needed. Minho, the shank that he is, catcalled the older Stilinski. Gally smacked him at the back of his head, but the Sheriff was already beet-red.

“Dad,” Tommy said with a laugh. “Minho’s just being a little shit. He isn’t even sure if he knows the meaning of attraction.”

“Sheriff’s hot, though.” Minho started shooting finger guns at the two Stilinski men.

Cora let out a sound of frustration. “You are so—argh!”

Thirty more minutes and they were done with writing the runes on their bodies. The three men got into position and Newt handed Tommy a small jar of Mountain Ash. “Be careful with your pronunciation.” He reminded the Spark. It’s a lengthy spell.

“Yeah, I practiced—I have it memorized down to the dot.” Tommy grabbed a handful of Mountain Ash, threw it in the air and it automatically formed a circle around the three. He placed the jar on the ground, took in a deep breath, and started saying the words for the cleansing ritual.

Newt stood next to the other pack members. Frypan passed a bottle of water to him, he appreciates the gesture and drank the water in few mouthfuls. He observed how serious the werewolves are in the pack. Newt can only guess that they can also sense the magic in the air—energy slowly picking up to the tone of Tommy’s voice.

Each word that escapes Tommy’s mouth was enunciated correctly, his cadence doesn’t break, and his volume increases and decreases accordingly. If Newt didn’t know better, he would think that Tommy grew up speaking Latin for his everyday language. It wasn’t long before the breeze became stronger, the leaves rattling on their branches.

Peter howled, flashing his eyes and changing into his werewolf form. The Betas flashed their eyes, too, but they were more subdued in their reaction. The runes on their bodies were lighting up—Newt took note of the purple color of it. The triskelion of the Hale pack was the one shining the brightest, it was as if a beacon in the middle of the forest.

The Sheriff’s eyes were wide with both wonder and disbelief, still, he managed to remain standing in place. Newt can see the effect of the ritual on the man. There are fewer lines on his face and his physique is losing the fat that has been gained through the years.

Tommy’s voice reverberates with each syllable he pronounces. His chest was rising and falling, his hands being drawn towards the sky. “The Nemeton has called out for protectors and protectors it shall have.” He says to everyone. “The warrior shall shield the Nemeton from harm, the werewolf shall claw at the Nemeton’s enemies, and the witch shall keep the magic of the land flowing. The Nemeton shall strengthen the protectors, the Nemeton shall guide the protectors, and the magic will flow endlessly for the protectors. It is a promise that will be kept for the roots of the Nemeton is deep within the Earth and the Earth lies true throughout the passage of time.”

The gust of the wind slowed down, trees no longer swaying to their will. The light on the stump dimmed, and the runes on their bodies started to disappear. Peter slowly changed back into his human form, eyes still red as he stares at Tommy. The Sheriff looking younger, trying to find out where the writings on his body went. Tommy closed his eyes for a moment, Newt knows that his best friend might be overwhelmed by the surge of magic.

With a careless wave of Tommy’s hand, he broke the line of Mountain Ash, diving for the nearest tree and heaving the contents of his stomach. Newt approached him, run his hands on his back and the Sheriff followed suit. Tommy let out a moan, not pained but not pleasant either. “It’s…too much magic.”

“Give it back to the land,” Newt said to him in a soothing tone. “Release it back to the land.”

“How?” Tommy leaned on the tree.

“See in your mind’s eye.”

“I can’t handle cryptic shit right now.”

“I’m not being cryptic.” Newt was being patient. “The Nemeton promised to guide you, so close your bloody eyes and see what you need to do.”

Tommy closed his eyes once again, taking in a deep breath. They stay like that for a few seconds before Tommy opened his eyes and went straight to the stump. He got on his knees and planted his palms flat on the stump.

Newt felt a shift in the air—magic being transferred from Tommy to the stump. The Spark was pushing the excess on the stump, and they can all see the effect. A sprout was emerging at the very center of the stump.

Tommy then simply slumped on it. “Oh, God—Oh, God.” He muttered to no one in particular. “I developed a green thumb.”

“Merlin and Morgana combined.” Newt pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear you say stupid shit just to exasperate people around you.”

Tommy turned towards him, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “Dad!”

“Yes?” The Sheriff tilted his head to the side.

“Oh, my God.”

“Your Dad is a total DILF.” Minho unhelpfully added. Cora kicked him in the shin, Isaac hid behind Gally to snicker, and Frypan’s neutral expression says he’s very much used to Minho’s mouth.

Newt let out a heavy sigh, a headache is starting to form. He looked at Peter in hope that the Alpha may bring order in this chaotic time, and saw that the man is still buck naked. “Someone give him something to cover his privates.” He gives up, he knows when to retreat. “I’m going to head to MACUSA, I’m being called. I’ll probably be home late because I also have a date tonight. Don’t wait up for me.” With a crack, Newt left the rest of the pack in the middle of the forest.

* * *

It has been years since Chris had gone on a date, and even then he’d only gone to a few. Most of his dates were a one-time thing—basically casual hook-ups. Those that he did went on a second date with, he was sure wouldn’t be anything but a fling. He knew that there’s no reason to take any of those dates seriously since he knows who he’s going to marry.

Chris wouldn’t say that he’s nervous about the date, but he is a little worried about where he should take Newt. Besides his dreams and their polite conversations, he doesn’t know much about the younger man. Well, he doesn’t know much about the likes and dislikes of the younger man. And, it might be embarrassing to ask Allison, but if he wants the date to be a success to have a second one he will need to bow to his daughter’s expertise.

Allison’s eyes were light with amusement as she takes a spoonful of ice cream straight from its tub. “You are my Dad, and I love you to the moon and back—I just…I just have to say that this…” she waved her spoon in Chris’s general direction. “…is cute. The two of you are cute.”

“Allison…” He breathed out exasperatedly. He doesn’t want to lose his daughter’s respect, and that doesn’t seem to be the case. Allison is genuinely happy for him—he dares even say excited for him.

“No, you don’t understand.” She’s smiling outright. “The first time Newt saw you—Oh, my Gosh!” It was as if she’s vibrating on the counter seat. “He voiced out that you look beautiful—not hot or handsome, like most of the women I hear talking about you.” She said the last part with disgust that clued Chris in that those two descriptive words weren’t the only words used in describing him. Hearing coming from his daughter, he isn’t sure whether to feel flattered or not. “Unlike most, Newt said you’re beautiful—B-E-A-U-tiful,” Chris swears he heard that from a movie before.

“You mean when he met me?” He asked, for clarification.

“Oh, no. He has a full bloom crush on you before he even met you.” Allison said. “Remember the first day of school when you picked me up?” Chris nodded. “Newt was there, he saw you by the car and was embarrassed when he found out that you’re my Dad.”

“Wait.” Chris thought back to when he met Newt. “Was that why he was nervous when I met him?”

“Yes.” Allison seemed to be bursting with happiness at revealing this to him. “You said you are going to meet with him at the park.” Chris nodded once again. “That’s good—there’s a new bistro there that is open up until midnight, and they also play live music.”

“Thanks.” He was genuine in his appreciation.

“You are welcome.” Allison took another spoonful of ice cream. “What are you going to wear?” She asked after a moment of silence.

“Something simple.” Chris hadn’t thought about what he should wear. He never really thought about it even then. All his dates seem to be fine with his button-down shirts and jeans, but from the slightly horrified look Allison is wearing—he’s starting to realize that might not be the case.

“Can you…elaborate on that?”

“Button-down and…jeans.”

Allison picked up the tub of ice cream she’s eating and got up from her seat. Chris raises an eyebrow at that. She shoved the tub inside the fridge. “So, you’re thinking of something casual—that’s a start.” She dropped the spoon she was using in the sink. “You know that leather jacket you have?”

“You’re planning on dressing me?” Chris’s amusement can be heard in his voice.

“Dad—Dad…” she repeated. “I love you to the moon and back, but sometimes the clothes you wear do nothing for your assets.”

“My assets?” Chris is now smiling at Allison, he couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that escaped his stretched lips.

Allison rolled her eyes and continued as if he didn’t say anything at all. “Get up and we’re raiding your closet. Do you even know when the last time you bought something for yourself was?”

Chris decided to follow his daughter. He does want to look nice for Newt, he just hopes he doesn’t look like he’s trying too hard. “I don’t know—last Christmas?”

“No, last Christmas Mom and I got you a new coat.” Allison opened the door of the master bedroom and headed straight to his closet. “You haven’t bought yourself anything for years—unless it a replacement of something. Remember the ratty sweater?”

“I like the ratty sweater—I still have the ratty sweater.” It’s comfortable and he wears it during winter. He once dreamt of Newt wearing the ratty sweater.

Allison stared at him like he’s proving her right, and maybe he is. She opened his closet and scanned the clothes that he has all the while muttering under her breath about updating everything there except the essential items that he has. She threw a white long-sleeve Henley shirt on the bed, then the leather jacket that she mentioned, and the black jeans he mostly wears during hunts because it hides the bloodstains well. He’s going to try and forget about that fact during the date.

Chris raised an eyebrow at her pointedly, a silent request to explain why she chose the items that she did. Allison let out a long-suffering sigh. “The shirt is fit around your shoulder and biceps, also chest—which Newt’s eyes always stray to without even meaning to. The leather jacket is your statement piece because your wristwatch isn’t all that—despite what you think. And, black jeans because it never goes wrong.” Allison made jazz hands towards the clothes on his bed—the action reminiscent of another teen. “Simple but also a head-turner.”

He inclined his head to the side. “I concede to your point.”

“And, don’t shave—Newt likes the beard.”

She was almost out of the room when Chris thought to ask. “How do even you know that?”

“He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is.” She said as she left him in his room.

* * *

Two days ago, Newt had received a letter from MACUSA requesting for him to read the unfinished studies about the Native American creatures and shapeshifters. He requested that he lend his assistance during the weekend since he’s living a double life of a teenage muggle. The head of the Body for Protection of Magical Species allowed his request, even going so far as making sure that someone from their department will be present with him during that time.

Upon arriving at MACUSA, Newt found out that his companion for the afternoon is a fresh-faced African American man with a friendly demeanor named Marcus. It turns out that Marcus was also the one who found the studies and other documents about the Supernatural that was in the MACUSA archives. He also volunteered to accompany Newt, even though it is a Saturday afternoon because he wanted to discuss the findings with someone who has a vast knowledge about creatures.

Newt wouldn’t say that he’s as knowledgeable about creatures as his parents or grandfather. But, it’s difficult not to know more than the average wizard or witch because he grew up around a lot of creatures. His grandfather thought it was an acceptable bonding experience to teach children how to feed a Nundu and to go swimming with a Kelpie.

He read all the findings in journals, finding renewed interest in the study of creatures and their genealogy. But, since most of the studies were left unfinished due to the witch-hunting era and the separation of Supernatural and Magical, Newt was left with more questions than answers. He found it frustrating.

He then asked Marcus if there are any new studies about creatures that have been published, out of curiosity. Marcus looked at him sheepishly and said that, unlike in Britain, there have been very few discoveries of new creatures in America. Most of their Magizoologists are focused on studying the creatures that are present rather than look for creatures that have questionable existence. Newt rolled his eyes at that—people can say his mother is eccentric, but there’s no doubting that she’s bloody smart.

Newt looked at the journals that he had read and run a hand over his hair. There’s no other way to it, they need to pick up the study and continue it till the very end. He started asking Marcus about the projects they are doing in their department and found out that the Body for Protection of Magical Species are concerned with relations with the Elves and Goblins since Vampires and Centaurs mostly kept to themselves, and Werewolves are still fighting for their rights. The rest of the sentient creatures are free to speak for themselves if need be. It’s not much, Newt knows, but it’s more than what creatures could afford back then.

He kindly asked Marcus to make him a copy of the unfinished studies as he writes a formal letter to the head of the department about continuing the studies found in the journals. He listed names of Magizoologists that could spearhead the study, most of them apprenticed under his grandfather, mother, and Bunty. He’s half certain that his grandfather will try with all his might to convince his grandmother to lend his expertise in this project.

Newt was just folding the letter neatly when he chanced a glance at the wall clock. He swore under his breath as he shoots up to his feet. Marcus was startled as Newt started shoving folders upon folders in his messenger bag. “Bloody hell, it’s late—I’m late!” He didn’t notice the passage of time as he was reading the journals. Newt knew that none of them would be a light read, but he didn’t think that it would take hours before he finished them all.

“Woah, man!” Marcus didn’t stop him as he started piling up the journals to clean after himself. “Got a hot date?”

The question made Newt pause. He’s not good with small talk, never was. “An important one.” He decided was the safest answer he can give. “I’ll send my letter—“

“Nah, man.” Marcus draws his hand. “Give the letter here, I’ll give it to my boss first thing Monday morning.”

Newt has the messenger bag on. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like…you’re an owl or something.”

“I’m about ready to kiss the ground you walk on just because of our discussion,” Marcus said in good humor. “You’re not stepping on my pride, and I’m offering.”

Newt handed the letter over. “Thanks.” He glanced at the clock again. “I really have to go, but I got a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again. Have a good evening.”

“Good luck on your date!” Marcus called out as Newt walk out of the room.

Newt all but run towards the exit of Woolworth then towards the Apparition point. He landed in California with ease, and he Apparated once again in Beacon Hills—knowing a location that not many muggles pay attention to. He glanced at his wristwatch. “Fuck…” He let out a frustrated noise and started half running and half jogging towards the park.

He arrived at the park and he started looking around—twisting and turning to catch a familiar face. On a bench not far away, he saw the person he is looking for. Newt picked up the pace of his jog and only stopped once he was in front of Chris. His chest was heaving, and his breathing is coming out in huffs. “I’m…sorry…I’m…late.” He ran a hand over his hair—realizing that the action might have messed up his hair, he attempted to fix it only to give up right away. “I…” Forgot about the time, he can’t say that, can he? “I…got held up.” He patted the messenger bag he’s wearing. “The discussion took longer than it should have.”

Chris got up to his feet. “It’s okay—you didn’t need to run, I said I would wait till midnight.”

“I didn’t want to make you wait—I mean, yeah. I didn’t want you to wait.”

* * *

Chris drove to the park and got there exactly at eight o’clock that night. He sat on a bench and tried to keep his nerves in check. Five minutes in, he wasn’t worrying. Fifteen minutes in, and that can still be considered as fashionable late, right? Thirty minutes, he’s starting to worry. Forty-five, he’s starting to lose hope.

Chris leaned back on the bench, ready to wait till midnight—because that’s what he said to Newt when a blur of black came from his peripheral and stopped in front of him. Newt straightened up and stared at him with an apologetic expression on his face. His apology came out a touch breathier than it should have, and his red face didn’t take away how handsome he looked that moment.

Newt was wearing a navy button-down shirt with the top buttons undone, the black coat that he was wearing further accentuated his pale skin. The slacks gave Chris an idea of just how long and shapely Newt’s legs are. He knows he shouldn’t be focusing on that, but his mind works wonders.

Newt was quick to offer his reason for his tardiness, but Chris can tell that he’s trying not to give away too much information. He remembered Stiles saying something about Newt working with government officials. Having a contract with the military, Chris knows how difficult people with power can be.

He assured Newt that he would have waited for the younger man till midnight. Newt, being the polite man he is, didn’t want Chris to be left waiting. Heck, he’s about ready to wait a lifetime and he knows that just sounds so sappy.

Chris asked if Newt had dinner yet, upon receiving a negative he started to lead them both to the bistro Allison mentioned to him. Since it’s nothing fancy, they didn’t need any reservation. In Chris’s mind, he’s already planning to take Newt to the fancier side of the county. He thinks Newt would appreciate the finer things in life with his old money background.

With the live band playing, they decided to occupy a table far from the stage. Newt took off his coat, hanging it on the backrest of his chair and placing the messenger bag on a free chair, before sitting down. Chris did the same as he let his eyes sweep up and down Newt’s appearance appreciatively. The younger man is lean, yet muscled from what Chris can see of Newt’s forearm. The waitress left them with a copy of the menu in their hands with a promise to be back with a drink.

Newt’s head was turned towards the band, he was wearing a slight frown. He turned to Chris. “The song sounds familiar. I can’t quite place it.”

“Sunday Morning,” Chris answered. “I don’t know the band, though.”

“Ah,” Newt exclaimed softly. “I heard Minho played that in his piano, but he didn’t dare sing it.” The waitress appeared with a pen and pad on hand, she smiled at them as she took their order. Newt looked down at the menu, then look right back up. “I’m not sure what to pick—would you mind ordering for me?”

There was something in Newt’s expression that Chris can’t quite place. The younger man seemed to be overwhelmed by the choices—there’s a hidden discomfort. “Sure.” He easily took over the situation. “Let’s go with…pasta in white sauce with crab and…lemony salad for a side dish.”

The waitress complimented his choice and asked if they’re going to get some wine. They both decided against it, but both agreed to have iced tea. The waitress once again left them with the promise that their meal would only take a couple of minutes.

“I’m really sorry about being late.” Newt apologized again.

“It’s fine—nothing to worry about.” Chris smiled at him. He couldn’t help but find Newt adorable. “Stiles mentioned last week that you’re going to work with the government about animals. You must be passionate about it to put yourself into work this early.”

Newt worried his lips for a moment before speaking. “I—it’s part of the reason why we choose Beacon Hills. This is one of the places in America wherein animal attacks are prevalent, mountain lions are not a rare species of animal but if the trend continues, the government may be forced to do something about them. So, I’m…helping in creating a council that will make sure that both animals and humans are protected. The…head of the department I’m talking to was sidetracked upon discovering certain studies about…other types of…animals and their genealogy.”

Chris tried to keep the smile on his face. He can tell how carefully selected the words Newt used. “That sounds interesting and exciting.”

Newt shrugged gracefully. “Not really, all I did was list down names of people that can help them in studying the creatures.”

Creatures, Chris knows that was a slip. “Are you going to study being a zoologist?”

Newt licks his lips and for a moment Chris was distracted. “It was what I thought I would become when I was younger. Now though, maybe something in animal protection—like my brothers, but more on…creating new laws.”

The waitress walked back towards their table with their meal in hand. She placed it in front of them, going through her usual spiel before walking away once again. The band continued playing mellow music in the background.

“How about you?” Newt asked as he started tucking away his meal. “Had you always known you’ll be in the weapons business?”

“I’ve always known what my father wanted me to be.” Chris found himself answering honestly. “There was very little room to defy him.”

Newt looked at him funnily. “You didn’t dream of—perhaps being a doctor or a lawyer, or any other mundane profession?”

Chris chuckled lightly. “My life has been pretty much set out for me the moment I was born.” He’s only now defying Gerard because he fears for Allison. “It took me a while to stray from what my Dad wanted for me.”

His admission caused Newt to frown. “You’re happy now though, right?”

That simple question light up a spark inside of Chris. He can’t comprehend the concern Newt is exuding. He can’t believe that the man in front of him cares—had grown to care for him in such a short time and he is glad that his care is reciprocated. “I’m here. I’m working on it.”

“Oh…” The blush on Newt’s face was precious.

* * *

They changed to a lighter topic as they continue their conversation. Newt kept equal levels of apprehension and willingness to share information about himself, his job, and his family. He can see in Chris’s eyes that he’s starting to become suspicious, but he likes Newt enough to look past it.

Still, Newt knows that Chris will battle with himself if he should act according to his suspicion. Newt can tell that Chris won’t act on it right away. He will take that time to develop a relationship with the hunter.

He never went on a date. Merlin knows he never had the chance for one with how the world turned the wrong way round one day. But, then again, even when he was still in Hogwarts no one found himself interesting enough to go out with him on a date on a Hogsmeade weekend. It’s a little sad, he loathes admitting.

He never got the chance to just be an ordinary teenager. He never got the chance to worry about who is still available to invite to dances, think about his first kiss, or worry about being the only virgin in his group of friends. It’s stupid he knows—but it’s the kind of stupid he never experienced and will never experience. There’s no point crying over spilled milk, he supposes. At least now he’s sure that he won’t be facing the end of the world a virgin that has never been kissed at all.

Newt’s aware that he would need to pace the development of their relationship accordingly. Too fast and it would look suspicious once the pack is revealed. Too slow and he wouldn’t have Chris completely enthralled in time for the revelation of the pack. He’s giving himself a month. It has to be a month of a whirlwind romance.

“Oh, I know this song.” He mouthed along with the lyrics. The melody of the piano was so familiar he half guesses that it’s one of Minho’s favorite song. “It really is a wonder how many songs the rest of the guys know. It’s like they’ve crammed it all in their heads.”

“You must know some, too.” Chris wiped his lips clean. “I mean, you guys are in a band—normally, you guys know a lot of songs.”

The thing is, Newt mostly know the mundane songs that hadn’t been released. The old ones that he does know are what Tommy considered classics. That’s probably why even Minister Granger plays it inside their home. “We weren’t even serious about it when the band started.” He confessed with a smile. “The invitation to play for the formal encouraged everyone to write songs.” He hadn’t told the rest of the Gladers but there are songs he wants to hear again.

“Original songs.” Chris seemed impressed enough. “Is there an event you will be playing at?”

“At the moment, no.” He answered. They’re done with their meal and merely finishing up their drink. “We’re just…writing. Well, they are—I can’t seem to find…an inspiration. I know that sounds terribly cliché.”

“I don’t know much about music, but I think inspiration is an important part of it.”

“Minho’s the one who seems to be inspired by anything and everything.” Newt voiced out.

There are moments wherein Minho would hear something or see something and be reminded of a song. While the rest of them just writes whatever they remember from the songs that got stuck in their minds back then. Newt is still impressed with the number of songs Gally and Tommy had memorized and can recall. They could honestly make a teen year career in being a band, and earn a hefty amount of money.

“How did you got into playing bass?” Chris asked. “It’s not the usual instrument most people master.”

Newt mentally thought back, with a small smile. “I was pretty young when I heard my first—uh…rock song.” He almost muttered muggle. “The Beatles, All You Need Is Love. I remember my mother and father dancing to it in our living room.” Such a muggle thing to do, too—but his Mom never did as society deemed proper. “I started with a guitar, but I found the sound of the bass more…intriguing.” He paused trying to find the words that can be understood.

“There’s a heaviness to it—a thickness that I can feel and instead of finding that suffocating, I find it…” He paused, adding double meaning to what he’s saying. “…good—really good. Tommy would tease that any instrument that deals with rhythm are sexy—I think that’s just him.” He inclined his head a bit to the side as he chuckles, Chris swallowed a mouthful of his drink. “So, I switched instruments and my mother indulged me in my pursuits even when my father wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

Chris cleared his throat. “That’s…fascinating.”

“And, you?” He rested his chin on the palm of his hand. “Any hobbies?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a hobby, but I go on…hunts sometimes.” Chris’s lips were in a grim line. Newt can see why the man mentioned hunting even when Chris doesn’t want to. The older man was thinking ahead, too.

“I suppose it’s only natural—you do run a weapons company.” He said. “I’d be more surprised if you tell me you don’t know how to hold a gun. What’s hunting like?”

Chris was quiet for a moment, obviously trying to find the right word to say. “I don’t enjoy it, but I do it for…business.”

Newt nodded at him, trying to appear understanding. “If regular businessmen go on golfs, you go on hunts. A friend of my mother once said that not all business deals are done in a meeting room.”

“You can say that.”

“But, what’s the one thing you do enjoy?” He tried insisting his question be answered.

“God, it’s been years since I thought of enjoyment.” Chris let out a bitter laugh. “Even when I was a child, I was too serious for my own good. Something I enjoy…” He hummed as he thought about it, before shrugging. “I enjoy…lazing in my bed in the morning.”

“I can’t exactly join you in that activity, Chris—at least not yet.” That got Chris sputtering and Newt smiled—delighted.

* * *

Flirting. Newt just did exactly that—to him. Look, Chris knows that in dating people flirting is inevitable. Still, his…heart wasn’t ready for it. He wasn’t ready for any flirting coming from Newt.

There’s light in Newt’s eyes that makes his hazel eyes brighter even under the dimmed lights of the bistro. The sensual uptick of the corners of his lips seemed to promise Chris his fantasies will be brought to life. Chris doesn’t even want to think about how Newt said the words. God, he thinks he’ll be hearing Newt’s calm yet sensuous voice even in his dreams.

The iced tea he’s been drinking went down the wrong pipe and it got him sputtering. Newt looked at him with a pleased expression. It seems Newt doesn’t mind that he all but screw up the flirting part of the date.

It took him a minute to get his breathing under control. The band continued to play in the background and Newt simply leaned back on his chair and stared at him. Chris wondered for a minute what he looked like to earn an intense once-over.

“Do I have anything on my face?” He asked dumbly.

“No, I’m just…” Newt shrugged one shoulder. “…looking. I’m allowed to look, now—without worrying about what my friend would think or anyone else for that matter.”

Chris felt the corners of his lips lift just a bit. “Allowed? It wasn’t forbidden, you know.”

Newt rolled his eyes at him. “What I mean is that I can openly show how I…feel for you without the guilt dragging me down.” He went quiet for a moment, Chris can see him hesitating but glad Newt was willing enough to share. “I don’t want to be the reason why you and Allison might have a problem. She’s my friend, and I’ll tell you now that—that I’ll put her first. Romantic love is fickle—people break up and makeup, or they move on and find someone new. True friends are harder to find.”

Chris wanted to tell Newt that is one of the reasons why Chris loves him. He knows it’s too early to tell Newt that he loves the younger man, but the emotion is already there—inside of him. There’s no escaping it. All Chris can do is wait for the right time to say the words and hopefully, Newt will say them back with a smile on his face.

“Well, I guess you’d understand that if you make me choose between you and Allison it’s a no-brainer,” Chris said lightly.

Newt scoffed a laugh. “She’s your daughter—if you choose me over her, I will end up hating you.”

“Then, we have an understanding.” Chris gestured for the waitress and saw Newt pulling out his wallet. “I got it.” He said. Newt raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m the one that asked you out on a date. It’s only proper that I would be the one to pay.”

Newt hummed under his breath. “I can understand the logic in that. I’ll just have to make sure to invite you next time. That way, we’re even.”

“It’s not about getting even, but I wouldn’t say no going out with you again.”

“I’ll have to think of a date-worthy activity.” Newt amusedly said. “You’ll have to excuse me—I’m new to this…dating.”

Chris paused his movement to just stare at Newt in wonder. How could he not have been on a date before this? Chris is pretty certain that Beacon Hills is very accepting of their student’s preference—so is the whole town.

“No one has asked you before?” He carefully asked as he hands the payment and tip to the waitress, smiling up at her genially as she walks away.

“I was asked before,” Newt admitted and it got Chris frowning—recalling a certain conversation they had in the grocery store. “It’s just…it wasn’t…”

“They weren’t looking for anything serious.” Chris finished the sentence for him. He should be alarmed with to topic of their conversation. Still, he can find comfort in the contrast of how they have been living their lives.

“I know it’s still too early to ask, nor do I have the right to—but I want to know, if this is…serious for you, too.”

Chris was momentarily distracted with the way Newt runs his long fingers across his lower lip, tongue darting out a bit. The sight fuels his imagination. He set his gaze on Newt’s eyes, there was worry in them and Chris realized that he has been quiet for a while.

“It is—I am.” Newt tried to be subtle about it, but Chris saw his relieved exhale.

The younger man smiled—unlike the other smiles that Chris had seen the whole night. This one—lit up Newt’s face. It’s reflected in the light of his eyes. Chris knows he’d be doing his very best to coax that exact smile from Newt’s face.

They got up from their seats and headed out of the bistro. They walked through the park, closer than they did before. Chris can feel Newt’s warmth and he doesn’t doubt that Newt can feel his, too. The night is ending, but things between them are just starting.

“Can I walk you to your car?” Chris asked.

“I took a cab.” Newt blushed. “One of the boys needed my car more than me, so I lent it to them—but no worries, you can drop me off where I can wait for a cab.”

“How about I drive you home?” Chris took a step closer to Newt. They’re standing face to face, just inches away from each other. Newt’s eyelashes fluttered as he stares at Chris. If there is one word Chris would use to describe Newt’s overall appearance, it would be divine.

“I—'d love that.”

Chris buddle up some courage and reached for Newt’s hand. He intertwined their fingers as they walk towards where he parked his car. He opened the car door for Newt before getting in the driver’s seat. He caught a charmed expression on Newt’s face as he brought the engine of the car to life.

They were silent in the car, but it was the comfortable kind. The car drive wasn’t long and Chris already feels the stirring of longing inside his chest. He finds it a bit crazy, how he easily became attached to Newt. Still, he doesn’t entirely mind. Newt’s the kind of person who would take care of a person’s heart and well-being.

Chris parked the car and told Newt that he would be the one to get his door. The younger man indulged him in his manners. They once again stood face to face, but this time—there’s anticipation in the air. Every successful date ends with a kiss. Chris wondered only for a minute if he should be the one to initiate another kiss between then, but his thought process was cut off by Newt caressing his cheek.

“May I kiss you?” Newt’s question came in a form of a whisper.

Like a flower blooming at the beginning of spring, warmth spread through Chris’s chest cavity. Starting from behind his heart and it goes around his lungs. “You may.”

Newt closed his eyes the moment their lips touched and Chris did the same. The kiss was chaste but filled with unsung affection that Chris couldn’t help but deepen the kiss. He captured Newt’s bottom lips between his and sucked on it, making Newt moan. A swipe of Chris's tongue and Newt welcomed him—answering the coaxing of his tongue with Newt’s own.

Newt’s hand moved from his cheek to his ear, and he can feel Newt tugging ever so slightly at his earlobe. Chris shouldn’t find it sexy, but he does—it made him close the remaining distance between the two of him, and his hands wandering in their own accord. Newt’s waist—so slim, yet compact with muscle.

They stood there—breathing in each other’s air and drinking in each other’s entirety. Chris would like to forget about the existence of oxygen and his body’s need for it. He doesn’t want to end the kiss—he’ll gladly suffocate on Newt’s mouth. A harder tug at his ear got him releasing Newt’s lips, though.

The younger man’s chest was heaving along with his. Newt’s lips were perfectly swollen, and his pupils dilated, his cheeks dusted pretty pink. Chris silently vowed that he will be the only one to have Newt this way.

“How busy are you on a school night?” Chris’s voice is wrecked—even he can hear it.

“Tell me when you want me and I’ll clear my schedule.” At least Newt’s voice is equally wrecked, too.

“Tuesday,” Chris answered. “I’ll ask Ally for your number.”

“Number?” Newt asked confused and it was an adorable thing to see.

“Cellphone number.” Chris clarified. He dove in, stealing a close-mouthed kiss. “I’ll text you the details for our next date.”

Newt licked his lips. “Yes, please do.” He took in a deep breath, realizing that they needed to let go of each other but not willing to. “I’ll…wait for your message.”

Chris let go of his hold on Newt. “I had a good time.”

“I did, too.” Now, they’re just prolonging their goodbye.

“I’ll see you Tuesday.” Chris’s tone was assuring. “For now, have a good night.”

“Of course.” It’s Newt’s turn to steal a kiss. “Be careful on your way home. Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, Newt.” He watched as Newt walks to the front porch, turning back as he opens the door, giving him a shy wave goodbye before going in. Chris got inside his car, he took a moment to himself then drive away—already making plans for their second date.

* * *

“How was the date?” Tommy asked him as they finally gathered all the books they would need to create an amulet for the Sheriff. Newt couldn’t fight back the pleased smile that appeared on his face. “That good, huh?” Tommy wasn’t even teasing, but Newt can tell that his friend is happy for him.

“He will still need a bit of work, but it’s…coming along nicely.” Newt opted for a more diplomatic answer, not that it would sway Tommy from being playful.

“And, pretty sure others will be coming, too.”

“Don’t be crass.” Newt bumped their shoulders, and that got Tommy laughing loudly.

It’s a Sunday and while the Sheriff would usually head to the station, Noah opted to call in sick for the day. Tommy suggests to his Dad could take a leave for a few days and come back saying that he had some stem cell treatment to explain his more youthful appearance. The Sheriff turned down the suggestion because he didn’t like being away from the station for far too long. Besides, Noah cited the fact that he would need to start the investigation about the fire.

They’re going to be spending the morning inside the basement, reading over spells and runes to create an effective and powerful amulet that’s used isn’t solely for illusion. Newt approves of Tommy’s idea to add protection spells. While the Sheriff is a man that is used to danger, he isn’t used to the Supernatural and Magical kind of danger.

They found which spells would work well with which runes. Tommy had purchased a pendant that is infused with Mistletoe weeks before they even found the ritual for the Nemeton. Tommy told him that he was going to come forward to Newt with a plan of protection for his Dad even if the Sheriff wasn’t involved with the cleansing ritual. Newt can understand Tommy’s desires.

They were writing down the finishing details on a piece of paper before putting it on the pendant when Gally walked into the basement. “Two Aurors are looking for you, Newt.” He said in a tone that suggests Newt should tell him now if there’s any trouble coming their way.

Newt’s brows furrowed at that. He hadn’t received any letter from MACUSA these past three days except the one regarding the Swooping Evil that his Dad gifted him. “Oh…” Newt straightened himself up as he remembered. “Nothing’s wrong.” He told Gally as he followed the Right Hand up to the living room and the front door. “It’s just my Dad’s birthday gift to me.” That got everyone’s attention it seemed. The rest of the pack gathered around closer to him.

“Mr. Newt Scamander.” One of the Aurors greeted him. “MACUSA grants you the permission to keep and care for a Swooping Evil, classification XXXX—according to the revised law.” The Auror presented an envelope to Newt. “In here you will find where you can procure food for the beast, how it can be delivered to you, and how much it would cost. We will hand over the beast to you the moment you have presented your Ministry of Magic Specialization License or any proof that says you are capable of taking care of a beast with such classification.”

“You’re Dad got you a pet for your birthday!” Minho exclaimed from the sofa. “No one told me we can have a pet.”

“Good luck looking for a pet that won’t freak out the moment they sense what we are.” Frypan dryly commented on the side.

“Just…give me a moment.” He cast a silent Accio, the folder where he compiled all of his documents came flying to his hands. Gally was quick enough to duck and pull at Cora to make sure that she wouldn’t get hit. Newt handed the Auror the license given to him by Minister Granger herself.

The man’s eyes widen upon seeing it. “Mr. Scamander, this is—“

“I know.” He simply said, cutting off the Auror. Newt doesn’t want to explain—even if he doesn’t need to. His business shouldn’t be privy to every Auror that would see and know that he has a license that basically says he can pretty much do anything and everything under the sun.

“Of course, apologies.” The man handed the wooden box to him, along with the envelope, and got him to sign a paper saying that he had received the package.

Newt thank both of the Aurors, waited for them to Apparate away before he closed the front door. Minho and Tommy were quick to crowd over him to see what’s inside the box. Frypan and Cora had it in them to keep a reasonable distance. While Peter and Gally were subtler in their interest.

Newt dispelled the charm around the wooden box, letting the planks fall to the floor and reveal a green cocoon inside a metal cage. He ‘tsked’ in irritation. It’s such a small cage to put in a Swooping Evil. He carefully opened the cage, then remove the sleeping charm over the creature. The cocoon twitched.

“What is that?” Minho’s voice was strained. The wolf in him probably recognizing another predator close.

“Nobody makes any sudden movement,” Newt said to them in a low voice. On his hands, the Swooping Evil is slowly waking up. If it wakes up to chaos, there would be dire consequences. “Come on, lovely…” He cooed at it. “You’re safe here.”

The creature unfurled itself—revealing the impressive span of its wings, and its skull-like head. It moves its head from side to side, assessing the level of danger around him. None of the werewolves moved—Newt thinks that even Tommy dared not breathe.

Soon, the creature’s focus was on Newt. “That’s right.” He cooed once more. “Everyone here is a friend, and I’m your new Mummy.”

Minho made a funny little noise that has the Swooping Evil climbing up Newt’s shoulder and sneering at him. Minho kept himself planted on the ground even when the creature’s face was just a few centimeters away from his. “I didn’t mean any offense.” Minho adopted the cooing tone that Newt was using on the creature. “It’s just that Newt is our Mummy, too.” Cora covered her mouth, but Newt saw the smirk growing on her face.

“You’re a little shit.” Newt’s tone didn’t change. “Just to warn you, Swooping Evils eats the human brain.”

“I’m Peter’s favorite,” Minho said.

“No, Cora’s my favorite,” Peter answered.

Cora scoffed. “Stiles is your favorite.”

“Can it fly?” Tommy asked—eyes bright with wonder.

Newt maneuvered the creature so that it hangs around him more comfortably. He’s guessing that it needs to spread its wings after being cooped up for so long. “Let’s go to the backyard and I’ll show you what this creature can do.”

* * *

Peter rolled back his shoulders, trying to free it from the knots that had formed in it. He’s been reading emails regarding the rules that should be applied in the werewolf council. They have been sending the rough document back and forth—from different Alphas back to him, and they can’t seem to agree on some things. He knew that it wouldn’t be easy, but he thought that since these Alphas are dealing with a werewolf, too, they’d be more open to a compromise. It wasn’t the case.

There are werewolf practices that some Alphas want to be included and be brought forth to the Magical government. From the very first agreement between Magical and Supernatural, some practices had been banned. Peter knows that it won’t be taken lightly in the Werewolf Council. He’s trying to figure out if it’s better to convince the Alphas to play by MACUSA’s rules or renegotiate the agreement with the Magical President.

Newt walked into the room with books in hand. Peter tried not to sigh heavily at the sight. He knows that everything that Newt hands him is things that will help him in the long run.

“I asked Quin for books he used while he’s still and apprenticing for Magical Law.” Newt placed the books on the table, next to his laptop. “He will also send any latest amendments if there are some.”

“All this studying has me feeling like I’m preparing to take my licensure exam again,” Peter said in an amused tone as he reached for the book at the very top. “I honestly thought of foregoing law and just set up a coffee shop. I’ll have the band play every Saturday to get people to come in.”

Newt huffed a laugh at that. “If only things were that simple.”

“Now, I’m thinking that maybe I should just brush up on my knowledge of the law and get my license back. That will surely help us with what we’re doing now.”

Newt hummed between his lips. “You can study Magical law.”

Peter blinked up at the wizard. “That’s exactly what I’m doing now.”

“No, I mean—you can get an apprenticeship for Magical Law and get an actual license to practice in the Magical World.” Newt’s lighting up further with the idea. “It’s perfect. You will represent sentient creatures—most would be werewolves because up until now they’re still fighting for a place in the Magical World.”

“It will also help with the Werewolf Council,” Peter added. Now that he is turning over the idea inside his head, it’s making a lot of sense. “How long does the apprenticeship take?” He found himself asking.

“Two to three years for the basic,” Newt answered. “Two for the specialization—though there are very few Magical lawyers who specialize Creature Law. Still, Quin can help you with the basic and as for the specialization—assuming that you will specialize in Creature Law, I already know two Magical lawyers who would be happy to help with studying.”

“Well, aren’t you just well connected?” He teased a bit.

“Your amusement might not hold on for too long once you meet my brothers.”

“That may be so, but I’d still be delighted to meet them,” Peter said honestly enough before going back to their original topic. “Before all that though, we have to do something about the agreement. It needs to be amended and I’m not sure if convincing the werewolves to bow to the wishes of MACUSA would be wise or vice versa.” He went quiet for a moment, a third option popped up inside his mind. “Would it be possible to ask the President the MACUSA for a meeting with the whole of the Supernatural Werewolf Council?”

“I suppose,” Newt answered. “He’s not really in a position to turn you down, though the meeting would probably be inside MACUSA—I’m not sure if transportation would be provided by them.”

“That’s fine.” Peter’s certain that the werewolf packs have enough funds to travel to New York. Though this will be the second time some Alphas would be traveling away from their packs in the span of a few months. Some Alphas might not like that—especially those who leads a small pack. He’s just going to have to make them see that this takes precedence.

“Just send the President Quahog a formal letter requesting just that,” Newt told him. “I’ll let you use Anu for your correspondence with anything magical. I need to keep Ulu because she’s more capable of flying for long distances.”

“Anu’s the white owl and Ulu’s the brown one, right?” There have been several owls coming and going, those two are the ones that Newt keeps in the case. Peter was right to assume that Newt owns them.

“Anu’s a Snowy Owl, and Ulu’s a Blakiston fish owl.” There’s pride in Newt’s voice. “Treat Anu right and you’ll be able to keep your fingers.”

“That’s the one that always bites Minho?”

“Oh, no—those are MACUSA barn owls. They hate Minho’s guts.” Peter let out a chuckle at that.

“Well, moving on from the topic of impressive owls.” He paused. “I wanted to get your opinion on my next courting gift.”

Newt’s eyes widen at that. He walked towards the bed Peter and Stiles sometimes share when the younger man stays the night and sat on it. “Tommy was ecstatic when he received your first gift. That would be hard to follow.” Newt commented.

Peter appreciates the thin line Newt walks on whenever talking about his courtship with Stiles. He can tell that the teen wizard is supportive of them, but Newt also wouldn’t hesitate to blast a spell on his head if need be. Newt never threatened him, unlike Gally, but Newt never needed to.

“I figured it would be.” Peter turned fully to Newt. “The dagger that you used on me while we were in MACUSA.” He started, and one of Newt’s brows raised at that. “It was…plain-looking.”

“It’s made of common steel.” Newt pointed out like it’s a no brainer, and maybe it is.

“Is there a type of steel—or any material for that matter that would…be more appropriate for a dagger for someone like Stiles?”

Both of Newt’s eyebrows went up to his hairline upon realizing what Peter’s trying to say. “Shit.” He muttered. “Goblins are known in…creating weapons that are imbued with properties that Wizards and Witches cannot imbue them with. Goblins are also known to being greedy and tricky creatures. If you tell them the specifics that you want in a dagger, they will make it—but it will be pricey.”

“Money’s not a problem.” Peter was quick to say. “Should I just write them?”

“Write down the specifics that you want, I’ll write to them,” Newt said. “My mother knows someone who works with Goblins. It’s better if there’s someone who will keep a close eye on what they’re doing than just trusting them blindly.”

“I thought you’re pro-creature.”

“I am—that doesn’t mean I’ll let them trick me.” Newt pointed out and Peter had to nod at that. He reached for a pen and pad and started writing what kind of dagger he wants Stiles to have. It’s a crime that his darling boy own something so…plain.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inkling will lead you to...well, it will lead you somewhere that's for sure.
> 
> (Alternative Chapter Summary: La petite mort)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story, leave kudos and comments, bookmark it and subscribe. Let's continue having fun with this one. It's not a morally pretty story, but I didn't went in thinking about that. I went in thinking about internal struggles and such. I know that's not everyone's cup of tea. Still, I would like to hear from you, guys. Don't be shy, just be nice!
> 
> This story is not Beta'd. I do proofread it, but some mistakes still get pass me. I do hope you excuse them, or point them out to me and I'll fix them when I get the time to hunker down again. Well, on to the story...

Cora has been with the pack for a couple of weeks. She likes to think that she’s getting used to all the chores, and the everyday routine. She also likes to think that she had gotten to know the rest of the pack.

Their personalities are different. They should be clashing but there is a camaraderie between each member of the pack that she knows wasn’t developed overnight. While Peter was considered as the Alpha that won’t dare lead them wrong, Cora was everyone’s little sister. She can’t find it in herself to be annoyed about it.

Even when she’s considered the little sister of the pack, that doesn’t mean they treat her the same. Frypan’s the supportive brother—gives his praise easily, and Cora can wheedle treats from him. Gally’s the stricter brother—he expects discipline, Cora knows that everything Gally does for her is for her good. Minho’s the annoying brother—he annoys everyone, but Cora knows that if there’s ever anyone outside the pack who would give her the stink eye Minho would be the first one to defend her.

Isaac is the quiet brother—he mostly lets Cora figure things out on her own, but Cora knows that he can be relied on when it comes to trying to understand the rest of the pack. Stiles is the careful brother—he doesn’t see her like a porcelain doll, but Cora can tell Stiles would rather hole her away for safety. Newt acts as the oldest brother—he keeps them all in line, though Cora can tell she’s granted a longer leash than the rest of the pack.

Knowing how the pack members treat her, led her to notice the group’s dynamic with each other. It’s impressive to see. Through her eyes, they are like a well-oiled machine whenever they need to do something together. They know who to listen to in different situations. They don’t necessarily change who leads them, but Stiles knows when to let others take the front when needed.

Cora also noticed how relaxed they are when they have their instruments at hand. One can start a song and the rest can easily follow till they’re playing in sync. They enjoy playing music and they find solace in it—if not peace. She had only heard them play in passing, but what she heard, she can understand why Peter isn’t against them creating an album.

Allison and Isaac gave her a funny look when she mentioned that she hasn’t heard the rest of the pack play a whole song. She found out that the band had played for their school’s Winter Formal. Allison was quick to pull out her laptop and make her watch the performance.

Cora recognized most of the songs they’ve played—except the one that Newt mentioned was chosen by Stiles. She was told that it’s an original song. When she asked about the title, strangely enough, Allison and Isaac didn’t know.

“Why haven’t you put this on YouTube or something?” She asked the two.

“Besides the fact that they have a very questionable band name?” Isaac half asked and half stated.

Allison rolled her eyes at that though. “I haven’t thought about doing that. If we would, we should ask for their permission.”

“I don’t think they will have anything against it—they are playing on making an album, so it can be a way for them to gather an audience.” Cora pointed out.

She heard the telltale sign of the boys coming back from their daily run. Cora still doesn’t understand that, but Peter isn’t saying anything against it. She’s not being forced to join and she’s happy about that because as much as she likes training to fight she is not all that fond of running.

They walked in through the back door, quick to head straight to the fridge for a drink while debating about one thing or another. Stiles was passionately defending his opinion under the scrutiny of Gally. Newt was a captivated audience, Cora would guess they’re talking about the mundane matter. Frypan and Minho would give their two cents now and then.

“What’s the name of your band?” Cora asked and five pairs of eyes turned to her, only four answered her though.

“The Uh—Pologies.”

“I was under duress!” Stiles exclaimed loudly.

“Yeah, we’re not using that,” Cora said firmly. “Think of something else.”

“Are you our band manager now?” Minho asked as they all gather in the living room.

“Hey, if you want to sell albums, you need fans that would buy them.” Cora adapted the tone that suggests Minho’s being an idiot. “To get fans, you need exposure—you need to be heard. I just thought of a way for you guys to be heard, but there is no way you’ll be taken seriously with that kind of band name.”

“How are we going to be heard?” Frypan asked the important question.

“YouTube.” She stated simply yet triumphantly. “We can post your Winter Formal performance already. Then, we can record and post something every week—it can be an original or a cover.”

“That can help get the word out.” Stiles conceded.

“It’s a quick way to fame.” Gally shrugged.

“Justin Bieber did it, so why not?”

“First, who is Justin Bieber?” Newt asked with his brows furrowed. “Second, what is YouTube?”

Cora looked at the boys in front of her, not believing what she is hearing. “You guys haven’t shown him YouTube? Are you kidding me?” They all looked a bit sheepish. “Next you’re going to tell me he hasn’t heard of Facebook.” No one said anything. “Oh, my God. I can’t even…Let’s focus on a new band name—one that isn’t created under duress.”

The boys were quiet for a moment.

It was Gally who broke the silence. “The Gladers.” The boys’ expression seemed to turn melancholic as if they’re taken back to a time Cora hadn’t met them yet.

“It’s what we used to call ourselves—after the place they dumped us in,” Minho said as an explanation. “It would be damn poetic if we took it and turn it into something—good. At least in some sense.” His smile was a touch bitter.

“Then, we’d call those who become our fans as Greenies,” Frypan suggested playfully.

Stiles sighed after sharing a look with Newt. “The Gladers it is.”

Cora pull up YouTube and created a channel, posting the Winter Formal performance. She made a mental note of creating a Facebook group in the future, and maybe a Twitter account. Is she going to be their manager? It doesn’t seem to be a bad idea.

* * *

They went out on dates after dates. Each would end on a good note and they’d be gasping for breath after a shared kiss. There hasn’t been a night that they have parted wherein Chris wouldn’t ask Newt out again. It’s a sweet gesture and certainly made the past two weeks interesting for Newt.

Still, Newt finds the pace of the progression of their relationship slow. It’s been two weeks and they haven’t gone past kissing—no matter how torrid those kisses are. He just doesn’t know how to make it move forward from there. He entertained the idea of asking the Gladers, but—he’s not sure who of them had had a relationship before they got inside the Maze.

They found time in their schedule to play the couple of songs that they have recalled. They argued how each was supposed to go. No, let Newt correct himself. Minho, Tommy, and Gally argued—while he and Frypan tried to keep out of it.

“No.” Tommy’s face was scrunched up in incredulity. “Those are not the words.”

Gally was shaking his head from side to side. “Yes, those are the words. I know because I actually like rap music.”

“I, too, like rap music,” Tommy said. “But, those aren’t the words—you must be thinking about the remix. The one with Nikki Minaj!” He exclaimed.

“I still think the arrangement is all wrong,” Minho said. “I think we should just change this into a rock song.”

“Why don’t we try the next song?” Frypan suggested—exasperated with the three. “We can come back to that later.”

They managed to recreate two songs that afternoon, the third one is still being argued over. When Newt finally threw in his cents, he agreed with Minho that they should just change the arrangement. Then, Frypan said that they didn’t have to stick to the original—they can’t change the words because none of them have prominent breasts. The three conceded but set those changes aside for next time.

They sat down on the ratty sofa, Tommy still behind the drum set and Minho fiddling with the strings of his violin. Gally has his head on the backrest and just staring at the ceiling, Frypan trying to play a Santana song with the unplugged electric guitar. Newt glanced around him, debating with himself if knowing is worth the humiliation of admitting he had never been in a relationship before.

“Before the Maze…” He started and everyone was listening to him even when not all of them are looking at him. “Has anyone of you been in a relationship?”

“No.” Minho was the first to answer. “Every girl I liked was already in a relationship.”

“No,” Gally answered, not ashamed to admit. “I was busy with learning how to shoot a gun and protect the pack.”

“No,” Frypan answered. “The opportunity didn’t come up.”

They all turn to Tommy who is now shifting on his seat.

Newt narrowed his eyes at him. “Really?” He couldn’t help but voice out his disbelief.

“Hey, what does that supposed to mean?” Tommy’s tone was defensive.

“So, aren’t you going to share?” Minho smiled at Tommy. “Boy, girl, trans, pan? What?”

Tommy rolled his eyes at Minho but answered. “Both girls.”

“Someone’s been living the sweet life.” Gally’s head is turned to where Tommy is. There’s a small smile playing on his lips. He finds amusement in Tommy’s red face.

“You know and understand the…deal with this dating thing.” Newt half asked and half stated. “The very least you must have an idea.”

“Yes, I do.” Tommy twirled the drum sticks between his fingers. “Why are we talking about this now? And, you didn’t answer your question.”

“Tommy, it must be obvious by now that I never had a relationship before the Maze,” Newt said like it should have been obvious. He wouldn’t be asking for help if he did have, or maybe he still would. What does he know, anyway? “I’m asking because I want to know how to…take my relationship with Chris to the next stage of physical intimacy.”

“That is such a roundabout way of saying you want to bang him,” Minho commented and it got Gally snorting a laugh.

“Merlin,” Newt said in pain. “When you find your mate, I hope it’s someone who appreciates fucking poetry.”

“Dude, have you read ‘May I Feel?’,” Minho said in delight. “Poets are thirsty fuckers.”

“Could we go back to the matter at hand?” From the look on Minho’s face, Newt can tell he’s going to say something crass. He held his finger up. “Don’t.” Minho made an exaggerated sad face.

“It’s still a wonder to me how much knowledge Minho has about—sophisticated things and remains…very Minho,” Frypan commented on the side. Tommy was nodding his head in agreement.

“Classical music and poetry aren’t that sophisticated.” Gally pointed out.

“Guys…” Newt was close to sound like he is pleading.

Tommy leaned on the snare as he looks at Newt. “Give us a rundown of your dates. We’ll see what you can do next time to take it to the next level.”

The Gladers listen attentively as Newt recount the past two weeks he had shared with Chris. They mostly went out on dinners in different restaurants. He told them how they went to a fancy place an hour away from Beacon Hills. The after school coffee date they had in the coffee shop slash bookstore in the next city. He also mentioned the museum they went to and the walk they had in the park with a bunch of street performers.

They seemed to be impressed upon hearing about the dates they had. Newt himself was impressed with the amount of effort and thought Chris put into it. The hunter also made sure that Newt wouldn’t spend a penny on anything.

“You guys have been mostly in public places,” Gally said. “Not a lot of opportunity to…do more than kissing.”

“Well, he can’t exactly ask Chris to a motel, can he?” Minho added.

“They need to go on a date that offers enough privacy for them to be more intimate,” Frypan concluded.

Tommy’s smile says it all. “Drive-in cinemas.” He stated. “They would be in a public space, but since they’re in the privacy of their car, they’d be able to make out to their hearts’ content.”

“Devious.” Gally’s tone shows that he likes the idea.

“Are there any around here?” Frypan asked.

“What’s a Drive-in Cinema?” Newt added his question.

That spurned Tommy on explaining to him what a Drive-in Cinema is and why it would be an adequate activity for him and Chris. As Tommy was explaining all of this to Newt, he also has his phone out and tap-tapping away on it. Soon enough, Tommy held it up for everyone to see that there is a Drive-in Cinema forty-five minutes away from Beacon Hills.

Minho grabbed Tommy’s phone from his hand, squinting at the screen. “The movies they show are old—like, black and white old.”

Tommy shrugged. “They won’t be there for the movie anyway. Newt can spout something about wanting to see an old American classic.”

Newt stared at his car from the driveway. It’s not an impressive car, but the windows at the sides are tinted. “How do I procure a ticket for two?”

* * *

Chris is aware of the three dates rule—three dates and if it all goes well…well, couples try their compatibility in a physical sense. Still, he isn’t sure if the same will be applicable if one is dating a person younger than them by a very significant number of years.

So, he took Newt to dates without pushing the younger man to be more intimate with him. He didn’t ask Newt on a date in the first place to have sex with him, Chris asked Newt out because he wants Newt to be a permanent fixture in his life. If it would take more number dates to secure his place beside the younger man, he doesn’t mind it at all. He finds pleasure in getting to know Newt.

The last statement isn’t completely true, though. He feels both pleasure and apprehension as he gets to know Newt better. Chris acknowledges Newt’s mastery of the English language. He bets he can verbally charm a snake to dance with a bit of coaxing. He can also sense Newt not being honest to him—he senses no lie, but Chris knows when information is being withheld against him.

There are also some slips whenever Newt becomes impassioned about their topic. This mostly happens when they talk about animals. Newt would slip and call them ‘creatures’—it caught Chris’s attention the first time, but he tried not to show it outwardly that it raised some alarms inside his mind.

He can’t call out Newt in his…doublespeak since he’s doing the same. Chris is trying to share as much of himself without outright saying that he’s a werewolf hunter. It was difficult enough to say that he hunts simply because he never liked hunting. Is he good at it? He’s one of the best—if not the best. Did he enjoy it? Not a second in his life.

“Daddy,” Allison called out to him. Chris knows from her saccharine tone that she’s going to ask for something she’s not certain he will be willing to give.

“Yes?” He looked up momentarily from the email that he is typing. There’s a group of hunters asking for more weapons. From the report that Chris had read, the extra guns would be overkill. It’s one Sluagh, not a damn Berserker.

“Cora created a YouTube channel for the band. They’re going to be, like, a legit band now—not just playing for a hobby.” Allison always starts with a long explanation when she’s nervous.

Chris hummed under his breath letting her know that he’s listening.

“We posted the boys’ Winter Formal performance, but now we need to release at least a video per week. And, for us to do that, we’ll need equipment—like cameras and microphones. We visited shops after class these past few days, buying everything we need. Everything is ready.”

Chris leaned back on his chair, waiting for her to tell him what she needs or wants.

“We are planning on recording a video this coming Saturday—that might take the whole afternoon.” She fidgeted where she’s standing.

“You can have Saturday afternoon,” Chris said. “As long as you finish your homework, there won’t be any problem.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” Still, Allison stood by the door of his office. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I was wondering…since after recording the video, Cora and I would need to edit it. I was wondering if you’d let me sleepover at their place.”

Chris was quiet for a moment.

He had met Cora and found out that she’s also living with the rest of Allison’s friends—along with her Uncle, a man Chris hadn’t met yet. He was told that there has been trouble with the construction of their home, the boys were kind enough to offer the spare room they have and the attic that they’ve turned into a room.

“Will Cora’s Uncle be there?” While he hadn’t met the man, from what Chris had heard from Cora and Allison’s conversation, the man is protective of his niece. That’s enough for Chris to know that he wouldn’t let anything happen to the girls.

“Yes, he’s mostly doing his work at home,” Allison said to him.

Chris can see the hope blooming in his daughter’s eyes. “I’ll expect you to be home around nine am the next morning.” Allison let out a cheer and walked inside his office, hugging him giddily. “I’m trusting you to behave, Allison.”

“I will. I promise.” Allison said to him with all the seriousness she can muster with the happiness she’s feeling. “I won’t break your trust—swear.”

Chris smiled and hugged Allison tighter. Trust has been big between the two of them. He knows that her friends play a part in it, too—especially Newt. He’s lucky that his daughter found friends that don’t turn Allison against him, fill her head with the usual teenage angst.

His cellphone ring and he had to let go of Allison. He stared at the screen and saw that it was Newt calling him. While they have been texting for the past two weeks, Newt hadn’t ever initiated a contact. This will be the first and Allison was quick on telling him that he should answer his phone. She kissed him on the cheek before heading out to give him privacy with his call.

“Hello.” He couldn’t help the way his tone softens upon knowing that it is Newt at the other end of the line.

‘What is your opinion on films?’ Newt asked him in place of a greeting.

“I haven’t watched one in a while.” He answered honestly. Chris mostly gets caught up with movies whenever he stays at rundown motels during his hunts. He’s not going to add that information, though. “And, you?”

‘I’ve been told that I am developing an appetite for terrible movies just because I find ‘Twilight’ highly entertaining.’ Chris can hear the amusement in Newt’s tone.

“Twilight? What’s it about?”

‘A love triangle between a female human, a vampire, and a werewolf. One would think that the writer would have studied some lore about werewolves before writing a book about them.’ Newt answered with a huff of laugh and Chris’s breathing hitched just a bit. It’s the kind of amusement of someone who knows something and it’s setting Chris’s mind on overdrive. ‘Then again, they’re focusing more on the vampire part.’

“I can’t say I’ve watched it.”

‘Well, I called because I want to ask if you’re free tonight. I know we have a set date for tomorrow, but I got two tickets for what Tommy calls an American classic. I’m wondering if you’d do me the honor of joining me for tonight.’ Newt continued before Chris could answer. ‘I know you could be busy, I just want to try my luck.’

This would be the first time Newt is the one that asked him out. Chris just couldn’t say ‘no’ to that. “What time is the show? And, where?”

‘I’ll pick you up around six.’ Newt’s voice reveals how happy he is. ‘Don’t worry about anything else, and I promise to drive you home before your curfew.’

Chris chuckled at that. “Are you going to ask Allison for her permission to take me out?”

‘What makes you think I haven’t?’ Newt teased—or maybe not, Chris isn’t entirely sure but he’s far from caring. ‘I’ll see you tonight. Goodbye for now.’

Chris listened to the call end. He stared at his phone for a moment before putting it down on his desk. He can’t say that Newt makes him feel young because that’s not the sensation that surges between his muscle and skin.

It would be more apt to say that Newt makes me feel alive—alive and taking charge of his life.

* * *

Tommy shoved a few bars of chocolate inside Newt’s bag and wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully at Newt. He tried not to blush under the stares of his friends but it’s just hard. It doesn’t help that everyone seems to be in it on the teasing.

Tonight is the night, Newt told himself as he shoulder his bag. He’s going to have to perform another push and pull moment to gauge just how deep Chris’s affection for him. He mentally prepares himself for it. He wouldn’t admit it—he’s afraid to, but he’s also emotionally preparing himself for when everything goes wrong.

Newt got inside his car and drove to the Argent’s residence to pick up Chris. He parked his car, got out, and rang the doorbell of the house. It took a minute before the door was answered. Chris stood in front of him wearing a simple shirt, a bomber jacket, and jeans that show off his thighs.

He smirked at the older man, showing that he appreciates how Chris looks but isn’t overly sexual about his appreciation. “Are you ready?” Newt asked.

Chris nodded at him as he closes the door of his home. “Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“We are going to a cinema to watch a film.” Newt didn’t want to give away the fact that it will be a Drive-in Cinema. “Just relax—I’ll get us there in time.”

Playfully opened the door of his car for Chris, even doing a little bow. Chris’s smile lit up his whole face and Newt thought that making the older man smile eases the feeling of inadequacy inside him. The thought made him mentally pause. Perhaps not inadequacy, but the feeling like he’s a bad person.

Newt’s aware of how a normal person would view everything that he is doing to Chris—he’s not delusional. Maybe if he could also make Chris happy it’ll be…it will be what? Justified? He knows it won’t be. But, it will be better than tying someone to him only to make them miserable. He hopes that’s enough.

He knows that in every relationship, one has to pour effort into it. Affection isn’t the only thing that makes a relationship last. That much he knows from his parents. No one can ever say that Newt is a lazy person. He can work on a relationship with Chris—he can give the man a satisfying relationship in every aspect of it.

“A Drive-in Cinema,” Chris said with a bit of wonder and amusement in his voice.

Newt glanced at Chris with a smile. “I’ve never been in one before—and I’ve been having a great time experiencing new things with you. So, I thought it’s only appropriate.”

“I’ve been having a blast, too,” Chris told him. “I had fun looking for things we can do together.”

The car was stopped and Newt presented their tickets. He found a good enough spot to park in. Newt gestured for Chris to move to the back of the car and he followed suit. He pulled the snacks and drinks that he has inside his bag, handing some of them to Chris while making sure the rest are just close enough to them.

The movie started and both of them kept their eyes on the screen. Newt wasn’t entirely into the movie. It got him thinking for a moment that maybe he is developing a taste of terrible films. The thought got him snorting a laugh that got Chris's attention.

“It’s nothing.” He said. “I’m just…I don’t know, waiting for something…stupid to happen in the film.” He admitted sheepishly. “Maybe the boys are right about my taste in films.”

“What kind of films have you watched?” Chris’s tone was strange in that question and Newt can tell that he is close to acting out of his suspicion. Newt knows that Chris wouldn’t find anything even if he does a background check on him again, but all these little clues he’s been given are enough to paint a very colorful picture.

“Mostly what the guys say that is good—and those varies.” Newt turned and saw that Chris's expression is one of contemplation. “Minho’s into science fiction, Tommy’s into superhero films, Gally’s one for action, and Frypan likes comedies. They’re introducing me to fantasy genres—Merlin, Lord of the Rings was long.”

“Merlin?”

“Oh…” He adapted an anxious look on his face. “Like—uhm… ’Oh, my God’ but instead ‘Oh, Merlin’.” He faked clearing his throat. “England’s…a pretty strange place—especially from where I was. We have a lot of…expressions.”

“Like Virginians.” Chris offers as a way out.

Newt smiled at that. “Yes, like Virginians.”

He opened a bar of candy, breaking a piece and offering it to Chris. The older man accepted it, taking it by the mouth. A deliberate action that got Newt following Chris’s mouth. He made a small noise at the back of his throat. It wouldn’t be hard work to bed a man like Chris Argent.

“The lore of Van Helsing was nice.” His eyes are still trained at Chris’s mouth, watching the man like the corner of his lips after swallowing—the chocolate. Newt blinked and made sure to look Chris in the eyes. “Most of the films though are focused on vampires and werewolves.” He complained. “There are tons of creatures out there to write a story about.”

“Yeah? Like, what?”

“Uh…” He made it seem like he was taken aback by the question. “Unicorns.”

“Unicorns?” Chris asked incredulously but with a hint of amusement present in his voice. “I think there’s a kids’ show about horses. There might be unicorns there.”

“There are?” Newt was momentarily distracted by that. “Kids’ show? Is that—never mind.” Newt caught himself before he even asked if there are also adult shows. He’s going to have to ask Tommy about that. He never thought that movies have so many varieties, maybe that’s why Muggles has a dedicated study for them. He doesn’t understand if that’s needed, but to each their own he supposes. Besides, those movies are entertaining. He can’t complain too much.

* * *

Chris wonders how Newt was raised. The younger man had shown a level of naivety towards certain things that would make the next person think he’s been deprived all his life. Well, maybe not deprived—but there are times wherein Newt would talk in a way that suggests he is still learning about the most mundane of things. As if he’s been kept from the everyday world.

Chris never had the childhood most people did, but he was certain that about a certain age he doesn’t stare at technological advancement the way Newt does. Then, a thought crept from the back of his mind. What if Newt was kept from the everyday world?

As much as he knows about Supernatural creatures, Chris would be the first to say that most of his knowledge is about how to eliminate them. He doesn’t know much about the upbringing of werewolves or Wendigos. Besides, how certain is he that Newt is a Supernatural creature? Yes, the younger man sometimes says some questionable things, but is that enough evidence to confidently say that Newt is Supernatural?

Other than Newt’s adoring strangeness and not so average childhood stories, there’s nothing else that would suggest that Newt is a Supernatural creature. There has been no changing eye colors or showing of fangs and claws. There’s no aggressiveness from Newt, only care.

Newt removed his jacket, allowing Chris to have a peek of his skin under his low cut collar. He noticed something shining against Newt’s pale skin. The younger man must have followed his line of sight as Newt pulls out a necklace for Chris to examine.

It was as if a punch in the gut. A slap in the face. A confirmation towards the question he would rather remain forever unanswered.

In Newt’s hand rests a pendant of a wolf howling towards the moon.

“That’s…an interesting necklace.” He heard himself say, but his mind is still in the process of…well, processing the new information. So, Newt’s a werewolf. What is he going to do next? Follow the code and the other unwritten rules that he had always followed since childhood?

But, this is Newt—he can’t just…

“Thank you!” Newt smiled at him, eyes crinkling. “My Mom got it for my eighteenth birthday. It’s to represent my name.”

“Your name?” Chris knows Newt’s name, but maybe hearing the story would alleviate his concern. People name their kids after certain things, that doesn’t mean they are those things. He should chill out.

“Yes.” Newt started to explain. “My full name is Newton Xenophilius Ulf Scamander—quite a mouthful, I know.” He chuckled lightly. “The first two came from my grandfathers, from my father's side and mother's side respectively. Ulf is given to me by my Mom—she said that the night before I was born she dreamt of a boy running with wolves.” He sounds as if he finds it amusing. “So, the wolf is me and the moon is my mother—her name is Luna.”

Chris’s lungs are being squeezed by invisible hands.

He thinks back on all the things that he found out about the Scamander Family. The family is well-off in England and is known for protecting animals—rehabilitating them and discovering new species, but other than that—there is no information about what kind of animal they rehabilitate and what new species they have discovered. Newt said he is in Beacon Hills because of the increasing number of Mountain Lion attacks—he’s been talking to government officials to get the preserve to be closed off from people. Is his family thinking of moving to Beacon Hills now that the Hales are gone?

‘You don’t associate yourself with those monsters.’ Gerard’s voice echoed inside his mind. ‘They need to be put down and that’s exactly what you will do, Chris. You put them down.’

He blinks back to the present—Newt looking at him with a smile on his face, happy to share that tidbit of information about himself and his family. Newt’s always happy to share something of his—even if he does do verbal somersaults to avoid telling Chris the whole truth. Now, Chris understands why Newt has been curbing each word—each sentence that comes out of his mouth.

Newt wants to tell Chris everything, but he’s unsure how it will be received. How will Chris react to this? His mind comes up blank.

Newt—carefully caring Newt, with his smiles and politeness and understanding of Chris’s love for his daughter is a…monster. No, Newt’s not a monster—his mind told him. Newt’s not a monster.

Newt is…Newt is the ever-present Polaris in the night sky that always points north so no one will get lost. And, Chris…he’s the lost traveler trying to find his way home. Newt will lead him home till he is Chris’s home.

Chris stretched his arms behind Newt, the younger man scooted closer to him. “After hearing that, Christopher is starting to feel like a perfectly ordinary name.” He joked likely. “But, it’s nice to know that I managed to bag myself a wolf.”

Newt threw his head back with a laugh. Chris thought that it’s the perfect angle. He leaned down and kissed Newt, swallowing his laughter along the way. Chris refuses to believe that this boy right here is a monster.

A swipe of his tongue and Newt’s laughter was cut off with a moan. Newt welcomed him with his greeting. Their velvet tongues meeting—pressing against each other and sucking. Chris felt a hand on his ear, pulling at his earlobe and he’s starting to get a sense of Newt likes doing that to him. He let his hand wrap around Newt’s nape, keeping their mouths connected—and they stayed connected for a while.

Newt’s hand traveled from his ear to his neck, down to his collar, then chest till it lay flat on his stomach. The hand curled around his shirt, rumpling the fabric—not that Chris minds, it told him of Newt’s desire for him. Just below his navel, Chris can feel a familiar stirring.

Chris adjusted his hand on Newt’s nape, tilting it to one side so he can have better access. He first nosed at Newt’s cheek, then he trailed kisses along the younger man’s jaw. He gave the sharp edge a nip before wandering further down. He kissed the spot under Newt’s ear, marveling at the choked up noise that Newt let out. He trailed over Newt’s neck, a moan made him focus his tongue at one spot.

“Chris…” Newt called out to him. He hummed under his breath, Chris didn’t even think of distancing himself from Newt. “Chris…” The call for him this time is more urgent.

“Yes, Newt?” He kept himself between Newt’s shoulder and neck.

“As much as I want to feel your…entirety…I don’t want to lose my…virtue…at the back of a car—even if it is my car.”

Chris couldn’t help the light laugh that escaped his mouth because of the words Newt used. Though thinking about it, it isn’t appropriate and Newt doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. Newt is not a casual fuck. Newt is a…he’s the kind of person who is built for lifetime commitments.

He moved away from Newt, just enough for them to have a conversation. “Let’s move our supposed date to Saturday.” He said. “I’ll cook you dinner and you can stay the night.” Chris saw Newt’s eyes widen just a fraction. “But, if you’re not ready yet, we could just…watch a movie together and sleep. It’ll be our sleepover. Nothing has to happen right away.” He was quick to assure Newt.

“I—as long as it’s you I’m ready.” Newt reached for his hand and squeeze it. “I’ll be awkward, and I’ll…fumble because I have very little knowledge and no experience, but I trust you—with all that I am.”

“I’ll treasure that trust, Newt.”

* * *

Stiles mimed throwing his phone away. Peter’s lips quirk at that and Newt’s raised an eyebrow at him. Too bad the ringing of his phone didn’t stop. He was eventually forced to answer it.

Newt’s date was moved to Saturday, and instead of a few hours—Newt will be gone for the whole night. Peter teased that they wouldn’t expect him till Sunday noon and prompted that they should start reviewing the contract for the council. It has been revised over and over again, Stiles feels like they’re not going to come into an agreement.

“Hello.” The call was from one of the emissaries that were present during the summit—one from the smaller packs.

‘My Alpha feels like Alpha Hale is giving too much privilege to the Alpha of the Dakotah pack.’ Rude, Stiles thought, there wasn’t even a greeting.

“It’s not a privilege.” He pointed out. “It’s work.”

‘Well, you have to realize that Alpha Dakotah will always be the first one informed—aside from Alpha Hale, about threats to our kind and will be allowed to act against those threats before informing the rest of us. That doesn’t sit well with my Alpha.’

“What? Do you guys want to have a Summit every time something bad happens?” Stiles’s temper isn’t usually this short, but they have been at it for a week. It’s getting ridiculous. “He could have complained about this during the summit, but he chose to keep his mouth shut. I suggest he keep his mouth shut about this matter until he finds someone who will back him up—and it better be more than five people.”

‘You couldn’t possibly expect them to bring this up back then. All of us were under a time constraint.’

“That’s why I suggested that he bring it up when he has someone that agrees with him that it is a problem.” Stiles all but hissed into the phone. “Because at the moment, he’s the only one whining about it—therefore, it’s not a problem.”

‘You can’t honestly believe that—‘

“Look, instead of just complaining, how about you guys think about a solution to your complaint?” He suggested. “That way we may take you more seriously—you know, than just someone who thinks they got the shitty end of the deal. Good day.” He didn’t wait for the emissary to say anything else, Stiles ended the phone call and threw his cellphone at the sofa next to Newt. “Next phone call will be answered by either of you.”

“Sorry, Tommy, but you’re the emissary.” Newt didn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s your job to…pacify them.”

“Oh, my God.” Stiles breathed out. “If we’re going to pacify them all, we’d have the most contradicting contract in the history of all contracts.” He groaned as he settles on the floor close to the coffee table. They have so much to do—so much that it’s starting to drive him up the wall.

His Dad had managed to give them copies of everything relating to the Hale Fire. Noah even went as far as to gather copies about cases that were the same as the Hale Fire. Stiles had to filter through each of those until he found the ones that are really werewolf related.

Before the Hale Fire, there were more survivors in the fire. Still, all of those didn’t matter because when he tried contacting the survivors it came to light that they died a few months after the fire. He had to use his Dad’s contact once again to get the files on those, too. Most of them were sighted as animal attacks, some were said to be suicides—which they all highly doubt.

After the Hale Fire though, Derek and Laura were the only survivors. Each file was gruesome, each pack was decimated. It’s a work of a true serial killer.

Stiles inspected the questionable materials found. He is sure that it can be identified even by a newbie hunter. Kate didn’t deviate from the original formula given to her. It says a lot about her intelligence. Stiles supposes there’s a reason why Chris is the one that is handling the family business.

They found a lot within two weeks. Stiles wondered for a moment just how much time his Dad spent in this investigation. Then he remembered he’s pretty good at digging about stuff, too. He really shouldn’t be surprised about his old man. There are not done yet but there’s a formal report at ready, it’s not addressed to anyone. Stiles can only assume that his Dad expects him to address it to the Magical equivalent of their government.

Stiles wonders if they’d be able to create a special task force that is for the Supernatural, Magical, and No-maj that are in the know. Well, there has to be a protocol put in place first. Stiles supposes that one would be created now that the issue is being brought to light. They just had to make sure they have a say in it.

“Has MACUSA replied to you yet?” Stiles asked Peter.

They wanted to present the Supernatural Werewolf Council as a united front, if they go there ill-prepared for the renegotiation, they are all but fucked. There’s a chance that people might use that against them, and bury them in shitty legislations. Newt hasn’t kept the fact that creatures had been discriminated against for centuries. They are going through all of this to change that, Stiles would be furious if they fail.

“Not yet.” Peter runs a comforting hand on his back. Stiles let himself slump just a bit. “We still have time.”

“We’re slowly running out.” He unhelpfully pointed out. Stiles wanted to know when he started to become the Debby Downer of the group. Maybe it’s the pressure creeping upon him.

“I have…a funny idea.” Newt piped up, he threw the letters he was holding on the coffee table. Peter raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to say what his idea is. “Don’t you muggles have that…Skype thing? Can’t you use that, instead of sending emails back and forth?”

Stiles covered his face with his hands. He let out a groan that suggests he thinks he’s an idiot for not thinking about it right away. “I’ll start texting them.” He looked up at Peter. “What time should we schedule a Skype meeting?”

“Saturday afternoon would be fine, but wouldn’t the flashing of our eyes be…distracting?”

“They can wear shades.” Stiles reaches for his phone again. “Newt can charm your eyes the same way he did with the guys.”

He had sent a message to all of the emissaries of the packs when a text from his Dad popped on the screen of his phone. He opened it only to close it upon reading that his Dad finally dug out the case about the Tate family. He shoots up to his feet, hurrying over his bag.

“Dad found similar cases with the Hale Fire.” He said to Peter, the Alpha was quick to follow him to the door. Stiles placed a placating hand on Peter’s chest to stop him from coming along. He still needs to make certain changes in the adoption papers. “It will look suspicious if we go to the station together. It’s better if I go alone—I’ll make it seem like I’m just checking over my Dad.”

“If you’re certain, darling.” Peter took a moment before conceding, Stiles had to reward him a kiss for it.

“We’ll catch her.” He said before heading out the door.

“I believe you.”

* * *

Newt is again taking his time in choosing what he should wear. He doesn’t want to wear something too fancy, since the date would just be at the Argent’s place. At the same time, he doesn’t want to look too casual. They might be ending the night naked in bed, but that doesn’t mean he should straight up wear something easy to take off. He doesn’t want to appear desperate.

So far from what he used to be in Hogwarts. He never thought about his appearance before as much as he does now. He supposes that he’d rather worry about trivial things such as these than have to worry whether a Runner would come back on time or night.

Gally walked in with a shirt that has a print of a band on it, handed it to Newt. From the feel of the fabric, Newt can tell that it’s an old shirt. The Right Hand opened his closet and pulled out a leather jacket that he only occasionally wears, and blue jeans that he didn’t need to wear a belt on. Newt raised an eyebrow, a silent inquiry as to why he was there.

“You have been in here for a while now,” Gally said in an exasperated manner. “I can hear your pacing from across the hall. You’re just looking for clothes and it’s taking you forever.” Newt doesn’t have a reply for that observation. “Are you nervous?”

“It’s logical to be, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Gally answered. “Still, you don’t feel like it is. You have prepared yourself for this moment for months. In a few hours, you’ll be giving a part of yourself that you wouldn’t get back to someone who has manipulated in taking it from you.” Gally summarized—it’s an unattractive summarization, but it’s somewhat accurate enough. “It isn’t right. That’s why you’re nervous.”

“Let’s not discuss morality.” Newt pointed out. “You don’t exactly have a leg to stand on that front.”

“We’re not.” Gally conceded easily enough. “We don’t do what we do base on what is right and what is wrong. We act according to if we will live or die—in our relationships, we act to make sure that they stay. We’re aware that we’re selfish because of that—at least not out loud.” He sighed. “The only consolation that these people, who we tie to ourselves, can have is for us to do our best to make them happy.”

“I already thought of that,” Newt admitted to Gally. They stare at each other for a moment, there is an understanding between them.

“Good. I’ll leave you to get dressed then.” Gally started walking back to his room.

It was such a simple exchange but it did settle Newt’s nerves. It was a confirmation that he isn’t alone in what he feels. He doesn’t even know why he thought that he’s alone in his struggle.

He took off his clothes, replacing them with the items that Gally laid down on his bed. The jeans fitted him just right and it didn’t seem like it would fall around his thighs even without the belt. The shirt was big on his lean frame, it creates an illusion of being cut low around his collar. He chose a simple pair of trackies and finished it off with the leather jacket.

Newt took a moment to look at himself on the full body mirror that he has inside his room. He looks like a college student. An attractive one, but a college student still. Strange, he thought. He wondered for a moment if the shirt is the item that made him look mature, or was it the jacket. Perhaps the combination of the two. It was unfair how Gally quickly thought of an attire that would have the effect that he desires.

He shook his head from side to side as he grabbed his keys. He announced to everyone in the household that he will be leaving for the night. Making sure his voice carries for the humans staying, not minding Minho’s catcall from the kitchen.

He got inside his car and drove to the Argent’s residence with the feeling of trepidation controlled under his belly. Newt took steadying deep breaths as he parks and got out of the car. He rang the doorbell and was delighted to see Chris wearing an apron around his waist.

“What a sight to behold.” He teased lightly. Chris had it in him to blush, and Newt just smiled at how pink the tips of his ears had gotten.

“Food is almost done, come in.” Chris opened the door enough for him to pass through. Chris took his jacket from him and hang it in the closet.

Newt followed him towards the kitchen. “Let me help you set the table.”

“You’re the guest—“

“I believe we had this conversation before,” Newt said playfully as he threw Chris a smile. The older man snorted a laugh and let Newt helped with setting the table.

Soon enough, they are face to face with the dining table separating the two of them. They were quiet as they started their meal. There’s anticipation in the air, one that Newt can easily dispense with polite conversation. But, he finds himself liking it.

“How was your day?” Chris asked.

Newt fought down the smile threatening to stretch his lips. “I spent my morning writing correspondence to officials, answering their inquiries, and asking my own. Lunch was spent with the whole group, finalizing the details of recording a video.” He let himself smile at that. “Then, the afternoon was spent for the recording.” He paused. “As much as I want to spend more time on looking for a more appropriate attire, I didn’t have it.” He shrugged, letting Chris pay attention to what he is wearing. “Thus, I apologize for the…simplicity.”

“I don’t mind,” Chris answered. “You look wonderful whatever you wear.” There is an errant thought that Chris had accidentally projected that got Newt smiling sweeter at him.

“I could easily say the same to you.” Newt set his utensils to the side of the plate. “How about you? How was your day?” He softened his tone and made himself appear more attentive than he already is.

“Not as eventful as yours, thankfully.” Chris took a sip of his drink. “I reviewed some contracts, wrote some emails, and called some people before having lunch. I used most of the afternoon to prepare for this dinner.”

Newt hummed. “It paid off. It’s delicious.”

“Don’t spare my feelings now—you have barely taken a few bites.” Chris pointed out.

“My appetite is…shying away from the anticipation of what will happen after dinner.” Newt’s statement got Chris pausing from cutting the meat on his plate. “If I may be so bold?”

“You may.”

Metal clanked against porcelain.

* * *

Chris copied Newt’s movement as he pushes his seat away from the table. He got on his feet and the two of them met halfway through. Their hands sought each other, and soon enough their lips connected. They are hungry—there is no denying that.

He pulled Newt’s hair, making him tilt his head upward. Chris used that to have access to the sensitive spots on Newt’s neck. The younger man let out one of the filthiest moans Chris had coaxed from him yet.

He runs his nose along the line of Newt’s neck, liking the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. “The door at the end of the hall—second floor.” Chris mouthed the words against Newt’s skin. “Wait for me there.”

“Of course.”

They stare at each other for a moment. Chris liked seeing the desire in Newt’s honey brown eyes. Reluctantly, they let go of each other. Chris watched Newt disappear from his sight.

He didn’t waste a second and started clearing the dining table. Saving the food for later—just in case, he thought. He didn’t bother with the dishes though. He’d have all day tomorrow for that. He was heading up the stairs in under three minutes.

Chris walked through the door of his room only to pause mid-step. Newt was already under the cover, from the clothes that lay on the floor beside the bed, it suggests that Newt had taken off every article of clothing he was wearing. The dimmed light coming from the lamp was enough to bring focus on the light blush that is traveling from Newt’s face down to his chest.

He stood at the bottom end of the bed. Chris unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off with ease. Newt’s side widens at him, letting out a soft ‘Oh’ at his half-naked state. “You have a tattoo.”

The observation made Chris conscious but only for a second—Newt wasn’t appalled by it. It was rather the opposite. It made Chris grin.

“I do.” He proceeded with taking his clothes off. Basking under Newt’s heated gaze—it was satisfying to watch the younger man lick his lips wet at the sight of Chris’s erection. Never had he felt so wanted.

He crawled over the cover, taking hold of it then yanking it off Newt’s body. “Chris!” Newt yelled out to him in surprise.

“It wouldn’t be fair if I can’t see you.” That got Newt covering his face with his hands. Chris held his wrists and gently pried them off. “Nothing to be shy about.” Looking at him, Chris made sure to Newt that he isn’t just saying things to make him feel better.

Chris caressed Newt’s neck, shoulder, collar, and chest. He leaned down and kissed Newt—not even bothering in going slow. Newt tried to match his movement, but he pauses to moan every time Chris touches a sensitive part of his body. Chris rubbed a thumb over Newt’s nipple and Newt merely hangs his mouth open. Chris used that moment to just lick at Newt’s mouth. Chris never thought that he’s a man deprived—but his desperation for Newt is showing. As long as his enthusiasm is welcomed, he doesn’t care.

Newt parted his thighs for Chris—he hummed his approval and made room for himself there. He let himself taste other parts of Newt. He suckled at Newt’s nipples and it got the younger man arching his back with a moan. Newt’s hands are on Chris’s head, nails digging at his scalp.

He traveled further south, tracing the faint lines of Newt’s abdominal muscle. His hand on Newt’s hips and making sure he stays in place for what he is going to do next. He’s facing the flushed head of Newt’s dick—leaking at the top and tempting Chris to just taste. Nothing is stopping Chris—so he did. He licked the pre-cum off.

A needy moan was heard after a shout of Chris’s name. The sound encouraged him. He enveloped the whole head inside his mouth. Newt’s trashing on top of him and Chris hummed around the head. Newt thrust upward and Chris felt and taste the first jet of cum.

He released the cock from his mouth and fisted at it. He wanted to watch Newt cum. He wanted Newt to paint himself with cum.

Chris saw Newt blink his eyes open, chest still heaving from the sudden orgasm. “Oh, Merlin…I…that—“he pressed the heels of his hands on his eyes. “It was too much too soon—I couldn’t hold it off.”

“Understandable.” Chris crawled up to face Newt again. “I just—got really excited.” He kissed Newt’s chin, unsure if Newt would want to taste himself on Chris’s mouth. “The night is young, and so are you. I got the stamina to match your…youthful exuberance.” Newt kissed him on the mouth. “How far do you want to go tonight?”

“The farthest we can go.” Newt sounded shy, but also sure. He has his hands around Chris’s nape. “I can’t think of anyone else to give myself to but you.”

That made Chris’s heart grow three times its size.

He let go of Newt for a second. Knowing that their evening will lead to this, he prepared fully for it. Chris got the lube and the condom from the bedside drawer. Also, the box of tissue to wipe off the cum on Newt’s skin. He promised himself that before the night ends, he’ll have a full load into his mouth.

Chris got back to Newt and kissed him passionately on the lips for a moment. “I need you to relax.” Newt nodded as he exhaled deeply. “I won’t hurt you—if I accidentally do, just tell me. If it’s becoming too much—just tell me and we’ll pause for a bit.”

“I’m ready,” Newt told him earnestly.

He kissed Newt again before kneeling between the younger man’s thighs. Grabbing a pillow to bunch it under Newt’s hips to make the position comfortable for Newt. Chris rested his hands on Newt’s ass cheeks, groping at them and parting them to get a look at Newt’s hole.

Chris…can’t help himself—he dived in.

* * *

Newt tried to bite down on his knuckles to keep quiet, but Chris’s tongue—oh, it’s going to drive him crazy. He’s starting to become embarrassed from all the sounds he’s making, but with each sound he makes Chris answers them with his groan and grunt. It’s all so primal.

Under the assault of Chris’s mouth and hands, Newt wondered if he had teased the older man too much with the dreams. Don’t get him wrong, he’s…liking everything that he is done to him right now, but he can feel lust coming from Chris in waves. Again, he doesn’t mind—but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

This should be—lovemaking not…fucking.

That cleared the cloud of arousal in Newt’s mind. He pushed himself away from Chris, closing his legs as he sits up on the bed. Chris’s chin is wet with his saliva and his eyes were wide at him. Newt sniffled—he didn’t even realize he was getting teary eyes. Panic was starting to overcome Chris’s expression.

“Did I hurt you?” Chris asked—one hand paused midair, unsure if he should reach out to Newt or not.

“No—’s not that.” He couldn’t help the way his arms wrap around himself protectively. Newt’s movements are made subconsciously. The sensation he’s experiencing now is so new for him to have complete control over himself.

“What is it, Newt?” Chris didn’t let his voice go above a whisper, he must be afraid that Newt will run from him. The wizard thought it was stupid, he had planned for all of this—and now…he’s being overly emotional about how he is being handled. It shouldn’t matter, he tried to convince himself. Keyword being tried.

He recalled the conversation that he had with Tommy. He needs Chris to love him, anything less than that is unacceptable. “I didn’t expect it to be so…carnal—I thought it’ll be…” He sniffled again. Newt is starting to get irritated with these uncontrollable actions.

“Be what?” Chris asked carefully.

“Sweet.” Oh, Merlin, there are tears in his eyes. What in the name of Morgana is happening to him? “This is—I’m being stupid. I mean, I like it—the…you know, it’s just…”

Chris finally moves, wrapping his arms around Newt. Chris pulled him close to his chest and kissed his temple. “I was going too fast.”

“Not too fast.” Newt insisted. “I told you, I like it—I like all of it. I just…I think—I think I got this idea in my mind about how…how this night is supposed to go—“

“And, I’m not meeting your expectation—“

“It’s not that.” Newt let out a frustrated noise at the back of his throat. He turned to look Chris in the eyes. “I don’t want to be fucked.” He confessed. “I need to be loved.”

There’s warmth present in Chris’s blue eyes. Newt doesn’t know what he’s thinking, he can probably use Legilimens—strangely enough, Newt doesn’t want to. “I do.”

“You do?” Newt frowned, confused.

The corners of Chris’s mouth quirked up. “Love you, I mean.” The older man is now smiling brightly down at Newt. “I love you.”

“Oh…” Newt knew that—he knew that since Chris first thought of it. But, hearing it is something else entirely. The sincerity in Chris’s eyes and tone, got Newt’s heart beating all over his chest. “I…you…”

Chris cupped his cheeks with his hands. “We’ll go slower, sweeter—more loving if you still want to. If not, I’ll wait till you are—no hurry.” Chris kissed him on the lips, close-mouthed but filled with emotion that Newt can only hope to name.

Newt held Chris’s hand in his. “I want to.”

Chris leaned down and kissed him once again. True to his words, slower—so was the pace of the kiss’s build-up. Newt let himself be caught in between lips, teeth, and tongue.

He can feel Chris’s hands moving over his body, fanning the ember once more. In a fit of reckless courage, he did the same—shoulders, arms, chest, and more. They’re flushed against each other.

Newt buried his face along the crook of Chris’s neck, the older man held him close as he was being prepped. The position was far from comfortable, but he liked being close to Chris. He felt better anchored with his arms around Chris.

The sensation inside of him—gradually sending spikes of pleasure up his spine. Newt let out a whine after one particular drag of Chris’s fingers. He slathered open-mouthed kisses along Chris’s neck. Newt let out a needy moan when Chris pressed the pads of his fingers somewhere deep inside Newt that pushed him a bit to the edge.

“Open your eyes,” Chris told him. “I want to see your eyes.”

Newt didn’t even know he closed his eyes. He had to force himself to open it. Newt never knew that human eyes can shine so bright without any assistance of magic.

“I’m going to let you go for a bit.” Chris kissed him before continuing—cutting off the whine that was threatening to escape his lips. “I have to get the condom—somewhere.” He let out a small amused huff. “I misplaced it.”

“Keep…keep a hand on me,” Newt begged. “I feel…unmoored without you close.” He finally figured out what it is that set him off. Chris might have had his mouth attached to his body, but it wasn’t a comforting hand—a steadying hand.

Chris kept a hand on him as he searches the bed for the pack of condoms. Newt didn’t even notice Chris grabbing the lube and slicking his fingers with it. He’ll pay better attention next time.

“Got it.” Chris brought the pack to his mouth and tear it in one smooth movement.

Newt noticed the shaking of his hand and thought to help him with it. They rolled the condom over Chris’s erection together. The hunter let out a blissed groaned at the small action. Newt gave him a few pumps before lying down on his back and hooking one of his legs around Chris’s waist.

Chris properly positioned himself on top of Newt. He made sure that their foreheads are touching, and that they are staring at each other’s eyes. Newt’s mouth hangs open as Chris started to thrust in, though he didn’t dare close his eyes. Newt is starting to realize that he can keep their connection through eye contact, too.

Newt mewled when Chris is fully sheathed inside him. “You—you’re heavy inside.” Chris’s cock twitched and Newt threw his head back. “I feel you—all of you.”

“And, I feel you,” Chris whispered to him. “Newt, you feel…like a dream come true.” Chris adjusted his legs under Newt’s parted ones.

With the first slow pull, Newt dug his fingers on Chris's back. The push back has Newt calling out to Chris. The older man’s movement was slow at first, Newt can feel his whole body accommodating Chris better, and soon the two of them were rocking against each other. Chris held him impossibly closer and his movement got wilder and wilder.

“I’m—I’m going to—to die. It’s so—Oh, Merlin!” Newt blurted out the thought that popped out of his mind. The friction, the pressure, the heat—it will lead him to death. “I’m close. I’m close.” He shakily said to Chris.

Chris smiled against Newt’s lips. “We’ll die together.”

They picked up their pace, and their voices echoed against the four walls of the room. Their skins glued together by sweat, and their hands never let each other go. Chris made sure each of his thrusts is aimed at Newt’s prostate, and Newt can feel his whole body tightening around Chris.

Chris reached between his legs, and the mere act of touching him pushed Newt to the edge. He fell to his death followed by Chris. Newt lost himself for a moment or two before he was brought back by Chris’s kisses.

Newt hazily opened his eyes. He saw Chris looking down at him. “Chris…” It seemed like his strength was zapped out of him.

“Newt…” Chris said his name like it was a prayer. With all the strength that he still possesses, Newt kissed him. After that, he closed his eyes—he’s too tired to even keep his eyes open.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is the right way to live a life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Another chapter because I'm really putting the pedal to the metal in this one. Thank you to everyone that is reading this, whether you've just opened this or you have been reading since the very start. It means a lot. Let's continue the fun.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I do proofread it. Please, pardon me if there are still mistakes that got past by me. On to the story...

The morning after isn’t like any ‘morning after’ Chris had before—not even in his marriage. It was also better than all of his dreams combined. He didn’t want to get up at all, but his bladder could only hold so much liquid.

Chris gently tried to pry Newt’s hands off him without waking up the younger man. But the smallest movement got Newt stirring, looking up at him with a small frown between his eyebrows and a pout on his lips. Newt didn’t like that he’s moving away from the way he laid his hands flatly and firmly on Chris’s chest. He never thought that a person can appear both needy and possessive at the same time.

“Where are you going?” Newt asked—voice still thick from sleepiness.

“Bathroom.” Still, Chris didn’t move a muscle. He waited for Newt to lessen the pressure of his hands before getting up.

Chris took a leak and on his way out of the bathroom, he caught sight of himself from the mirror. He did a double-take. It isn’t new for him to wake up with a bed hair—what’s new was the kiss mark up and down his neck. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised but he is nonetheless. He didn’t think that Newt would leave marks.

He ran a hand over the purple marks, he could only shiver with how sensitive his skin his on the marked spots. He will have to wear something that will cover it up. A smile still made itself known on Chris’s face.

It wasn’t a smug smile, though. He took a mouth wash and quickly rinsed his mouth. He might not care about morning breath but the same can’t be said with Newt.

Chris walked back into his bedroom and saw Newt lying on the bed—pale back exposed with the sheet covering his lower body parts. Newt looked up at him, hands bunched under a pillow he’s resting his head-on. A blush spread through his cheeks as if he hadn’t seen Chris naked last night—as if he hadn’t touched Chris.

He decided to sit down next to Newt. Chris leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. Newt answered the kiss, a touch shy. It was adorable.

“Good morning.” Chris greeted him. Newt greeted him, too, but it was in a form of a whisper. “There’s no need to be shy.” He placed a hand over Newt’s nape.

“I can’t help it.” Newt moved closer to him.

Chris welcomed the younger man with open arms. He ran his fingers over Newt’s sides—marveling at the sensation of just being able to hold him. He can’t count how many times he had dreamt about waking up next to Newt—and right now, it’s real.

He kissed Newt on the temple. The warmth they’re sharing fills Chris’s heart to the brim. The morning sun peeking through the curtains of his bedroom window, making Newt’s skin glow, and making Chris believe in entities he never believed in before.

Newt looked up at him—their eyes meeting. “I’m going to make you happy.” There’s a solemnity in Newt’s voice that Chris knows that the words he uttered we meant to be a promise.

If Newt didn’t have his heart already, he would have it at that moment. Chris can only see but honesty in Newt’s eyes, and determination. He had done a lot of bad things in his life, he had long thought that happiness isn’t in store for him. Still, here is Newt—making him want happiness and making him happy.

“I love you.” He said the words that he had only told his daughter—never knowing that he’d say it to anyone else.

Instead of saying it back, Newt leaned forward for their lips to touch. Chris didn’t need to hear Newt say it. It’s all in Newt’s promise. It’s all in Newt’s kiss. It’s in every way that Newt cared for him and Allison.

The alarm of his clock went off, and Chris couldn’t help but chuckle at it. For the first time, Newt didn’t disappear as he opened his eyes. “We have to get up.” He reached out to turn it off.

“No, five more minutes.” Newt tried to hold him down again.

“If we don’t get up now, Allison is going to catch us.” Chris threw his head back and laugh at how red Newt’s face had gotten at the simple thought. He felt a fist hitting him square on the chest. He grabbed Newt’s hand and kissed it. “You should shower, feel free to take anything you need from my drawer and closet.”

He got up, walked to his closet, and grabbed a pajama and a tank top. He put it on, not bothering with wearing underwear. He turned to Newt and saw the younger man eyeing him—his tattoo. Chris playfully raised an eyebrow at him. Newt merely huffed at him.

“I’m going to cook us breakfast—or reheat last night’s dinner.” He gave Newt one last kiss before heading down to the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Newt walked into the kitchen—hair disheveled and wearing a black shirt that hangs off his frame. Chris smirked at that. They may be close in height, but Newt is leaner than him.

Newt sat at the counter seat, and Chris handed him a plate of what was supposed to be their dinner. He made Newt choose between coffee and tea, and wasn’t all that surprised that Newt chose tea. Though, Chris made a mental note that he should start stacking the good kind.

As if on cue, Allison walked in from the front door. She saw them and joined them in the kitchen. Chris noticed that she has a muffin basket on hand. She placed it on the counter.

“Good morning.” She greeted them with a smile. “Frypan baked blueberry muffins—he wanted me to take home some because he knows Newt will still be here by the time he drops me off.”

“Is he still outside?” Newt asked.

“Oh, no.” Allison shook her head lightly from side to side. “He said that it’s his turn to shop, he wanted to get to the store right away.” She grabbed a muffin and took a bite off it. “So, how was date night?” She faked an innocent look on her face.

Newt covered his face, Chris tried to fight down a smile. “Date night was fine.” He answered in a leveled tone—too leveled. Allison stared down at their breakfast, for a moment her expression was one of confusion—but soon it was cleared and there was a happy smile on her face.

“How was the…video editing?” Newt asked in a valiant attempt of changing the topic.

“It was great!” Allison exclaimed. “Cora knows a lot about video editing—though we needed Minho’s help because something happened with the sound. For a moment we thought we’d have to shoot again, thankfully they fixed it.”

“That’s good,” Newt answered, but it was clear that he’s waiting for Allison to finish recounting the events of her sleepover.

“Cora will upload it around noon—I’m waiting for it.” Allison took a seat next to Newt while Chris remained leaning at the counter. “I’ve listened to the song for what felt like a hundred times but it’s just so catchy.”

Newt hummed beneath his breath. “Did she chose the cover or the original?”

“Cora and Minho thought that it will be better to upload both,” Allison informed him. “Which I agreed to—so did Fry and Gally. I mean, come on—your original song can make anyone feel like they’re the bad guy.”

“Bad guy?” Chris couldn’t help but echo the words by a question.

“Just…the title of the song,” Newt answered him sheepishly.

“Minho also let me listen to some of the demos,” Allison informed both of them. “The songs you’ve written are…interesting—“

“Oh, Merlin.” Newt covered his face with his hands once again.

“—so catchy, though. Minho said something about putting all your songs together and make an EP since it already has a…theme of sorts.”

“What? I was just…playing around with those.”

“They’re good songs.” Allison insisted and Chris is intrigued, to say the least.

Newt’s phone alerted him of a text message, and the younger man’s expression turned serious. He sighed. “I need to go.” He got up from his chair. “My cousin would be busy for the coming week—I will need to find a new lawyer to represent me in some meeting.” He reached out for a muffin, though. “Thanks for these.” He said to Allison. “I’ll see you in school on Monday.”

“Drive safe.” Allison hugged Newt. It should be strange that the three of them are more of a family unit than they did with Victoria.

Chris walked Newt to the door and got his jacket for him. Newt kissed him on the cheek—just the cheek because they both know Allison is watching from the kitchen. “If you need help finding a lawyer, give me a call.” He wouldn’t mind using his resources for Newt. “The company has a few that I could order around to help you.”

Newt snorted a laugh. “I appreciate that, but I know people, too, Mr. Argent.” He said Chris’s last name playfully. “I’ll text you when I can.”

“I’ll wait.” He watched as Newt got inside his car and drive away. Chris closed the door and turned only to see the smug smile on Allison’s face. Chris doesn’t even know why she looks smug.

“You guys are the cutest.” Allison once again made her opinion known. “You should watch the video—the song is amazing. I’m hoping they post some of Newt’s song because it is obvious who his inspiration is.”

“We’ll see.”

Chris cleaned the dishes and prepared to spend most of his day doing house chores. It was a quarter past twelve when he managed to get a breather from everything that needs to be done. He sat on the living room sofa, thinking if he should watch the video.

He pulled out his phone and saw a message from Allison. Chris’s brows furrowed at that, they’re both inside the house—there was no need for her to text him. He opened the message and saw that it was a link. Well, he supposes he will watch the video.

The video started with a black screen, Chris heard the drum and the bass as the camera pans out—giving the viewers a view of the name of the band plastered on the front of the bass drum. The Gladers—written in stylish letters inside a circle that looked like a maze. Stiles nodded at the camera without losing rhythm, and the camera swept through the band members until it landed on Newt.

Newt started singing, voice gravelly enough to remind Chris of last night’s activity. The scene cuts to Frypan, showing that he’s the back-up vocal. Then, to Gally and his guitar. Newt’s voice ever-present in the background. “So, you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy. Just can’t get enough guy, chest always so puffed guy.” There’s less than a half-second pause. “I’m that bad type, make your mama sad type, make your girlfriend mad type, might seduce your Dad type.” Chris choked on his saliva when Newt winked at the camera. “I’m the bad guy—duh!” The camera moved to Minho with his violin, adding another layer of musical dynamic onto the song.

Chris never heard a band like them before. He thought that their sound is certainly unique. They also have appeal, he’s sure that there are a lot of girls who would like them.

The song ended—Chris replayed the video. Allison was right. The song is catchy.

* * *

Minho thought that he had gotten used to all the staring that are thrown his way in Beacon Hills High. He was wrong—or the number of people who are staring had increased. He doesn’t want to know.

He tried to keep to himself, not paying attention to the girls who were trying to subtly catch his attention. He also tried focusing his ears on Newt’s heartbeat, but the constant buzzing of mouths is hard to discard. It is the giggling that distracts him the most.

He got inside Chemistry, smiled at Harris even when he wants to peel the man’s face off for how he talks to Thomas, and headed straight to his assigned seat. The man makes him hate the subject that he genuinely likes. Minho thinks it’s a freaking talent. He’s humming under his breath as he gets the books that will be needed in the subject, waiting for the whole class to fill in the room.

Danny walked in, smiling at Minho. They sit close to each other and would sometimes converse about the subject—if not of something funny going around the school. He wonders how a cool guy like Danny can be best friends with Jackson. Then he remembers, Frypan is friends with the rest of them. Maybe they are there to be the yin to their yang—or vice versa.

Minho turned to Danny when he was nudged. The other teen was quick to speak his mind. “Dude, I saw your band’s YouTube video.” That got Minho smiling big. “The cover was cool, but the original song—that was something else. Are you going to upload more original songs?”

“Yeah,” Minho answered. “We’re going to create a Soundcloud account—so people can download it and stuff.”

“That’s awesome.” Danny continued. “You guys were great during the Winter Formal, too—but the video was a bit different.”

“Uh, we’re taking music seriously now.” He said. “We were, like, a garage band before the Winter Formal. We weren’t thinking about playing outside of the garage, but then…one thing led to another, we decided to take it seriously—write original songs, and upload them where people can listen to them. We’ll see where we will go from there.” That’s not a complete lie.

“It’s a surprise that you kept Stilinski, though.”

Minho turned to see whose voice that belongs to. He knows exactly who it is, he just wished to will the teen away. Jackson—with his every present haughty expression was at the table in front of Minho.

“It really isn’t.” Minho forced himself to keep his tone polite. “The band is his idea after all.”

Jackson scoffed. “If I were you, I would have looked for a different drummer already.”

“Good thing you’re not.”

“I’m sure Stilinski isn’t even that good.”

The wolf inside Minho wants to pounce the douche. “I’m not comfortable when people talk shit about my friends.” He told Jackson straight—politeness out the window but keeping his temper in check. “Stiles is an amazing drummer, and composer.” They are going to have to commit to that lie from now on. “He also knows how to play other instruments and is willing to learn to play more. I don’t understand where the hostility is coming from, but you better tuck it away when you’re talking to me.”

“Don’t mind Jackson,” Danny told him with a strained smile. “He’s just a bit iffy because Stiles has a crush on Lydia, and now that Stiles is starting to become a rock star—he’s threatened.” There was a kernel of truth in Danny’s joke.

Minho decided to throw Jackson a bone. “Oh, don’t worry. Stiles isn’t interested in Martin anymore. He’s—like, in a relationship now. The guy met with the Sheriff and everything.”

“Guy?” Danny echoed in question.

“Yeah, guy.”

As if on cue, Thomas walked into the classroom. He sat next to Allison, they started talking about the upcoming test. Jackson and Danny’s eyes followed Minho’s lanky friend. He doesn’t feel all that bad in telling people. Minho’s sure that Thomas doesn’t care who knows—in case he does, Minho would just inform Thomas of this encounter.

Minho went to class after class. He was slowly succeeding in blocking out the noise around him—except when someone says his name, even in a form of a whisper. He’s cursing his paranoia.

In between going to classes, he felt his phone vibrate inside the pocket of his jeans. Cora’s name popped on the screen along with the alert that says he had received a message from her. He opened it and couldn’t quite…wrap his head around the words that were written.

‘You guys are trending.’

Minho paused in the middle of the hall, his mind trying to comprehend what Cora’s message was trying to convey. Notifications came in one after another, he wasn’t sure what to do with his phone anymore. He swiped the screen down to see what the notification was about. He saw that it’s an alert about the band’s Twitter account—they are getting followers.

He clicked on the application, made a quick search. He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. They have a hashtag.

The bell rang and Minho could only run to his next class. Gally has an eyebrow raised in his direction, silently asking him why he was almost late to class. Minho mouthed the word ‘later’. For the whole class, he obsessively watched the ticking of the clock.

He shoots up from his seat the moment the bell rang in a signal that school is over. Minho aggressively grabbed Gally by the cuff of his shirt. The Right Hand of their Pack isn’t overly concerned.

“We’re trending.” The words came out in a form of a hiss because he tried to tamper down the excitement in his voice.

Gally’s expression was one of disbelief. Minho thought it was prudent to show physical evidence. He pulled out the application from his phone and showed the hashtag and tweets about them.

Gally hummed under his breath. “They have a GIF of Newt winking. You should save that—for prosperity.” Minho’s mouth hanged open at Gally’s joked, but he quickly shook it away. He scrolled down to show Gally that he also have a GIF. “Oh, shit.”

The two of them headed to the parking lot to join their friends. Thomas also has his phone out. Minho’s so happy that he isn’t the only one excited about it. The two of them hugged, playfully squealed, and jumped up and down. The rest of the Gladers—plus Allison and Isaac, let them have their moment.

“We should take a picture!” Minho exclaimed.

Allison reached for his phone and Minho let her have it. Isaac stood next to her, telling them how they should pose for the very first picture of the band. At the back, Thomas’s jeep was featured.

* * *

Stiles felt like he’s having a better high school experience now than he did before. He finds that funny since he has more responsibilities now. But then again, he has a better support group this time around.

He’s realizing that most of his efforts were used to convincing people to think rationally back then, rather than going in half-cocked and stupid. With a group that understands the simple concept of cause and effect, they spend most of their energy thinking of more effective plans. Are they morally good plans? Hell, no. Does it get the job done? Hell, yes. Stiles needs to soothe the Sheriff’s kid in him with only that.

With a plan—and Newt’s amazing organizational skill, Stiles finds time to breathe. He has time for his Dad, and his studies, even when he doesn’t need to put much effort into it. He has time to practice his magic, and learn about magic. He has time to goof around with the Gladers and just talk or lie next to Peter when he feels like it. He has time for the band that they’re making—they may not have started seriously, but it seems like other people do.

He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that they trended on Twitter. Stiles knows that the song was a bop even before, but it didn’t receive this much attention—if he remembers correctly. It still makes him smile when they read out loud a few tweets to Newt. His friend muttered something about it being worse than the gossip rags that the Wizarding World has.

They have three hours to themselves—from three to six pm, during weekdays. They can use it however they want, it is separate from their time for band practice. Stiles knows that Gally and Fry use that time with their partners, he supposes now that Newt has Chris—he will spend time with Chris, too. Stiles does the same with Peter, especially now that their Alpha would need to go away for another important meeting.

It is a mystery to him how Minho uses that time—it makes him worry a bit.

The house was relatively quiet. Stiles doesn’t have any enhanced hearing to know if Cora’s just at the attic or if she headed out. He decided to just head straight to his and Peter’s room. He found the Alpha folding clothes into a suitcase.

Peter turned to face him, a smile present on his face. Stiles approached the Alpha—pressing his head on Peter’s cheek as a greeting. “Hello, darling.” Peter all but cooed at him, cradling Stiles in his arms. “I’d ask you about your day, but I found out from Cora that your band has been well-received by the public.”

Stiles huffed a laugh. “You are learning from Newt the art of understatements.” He dumped his bag by the foot of the bed and let himself fall flat on it. “It’s one video—it doesn’t mean we’ll be making careers out of it.”

“Well, it’s on the table for you—for all of you, to be honest.” Peter joined him on the bed—abandoning all the open laptop on the desk. “You’re all talented. Though, I do wonder if I’ll ever hear you sing.”

“Maybe if we do an acoustic song.” He shrugged. “I like playing the drums. Besides, Gally and Newt’s voice are good—it will be better if they sing consistently and learn some techniques.”

“Should I start looking for vocal teachers?” Peter teased.

“That—you should discuss with Gally and Newt.” He turned to Peter, he runs a hand over Peter’s cheek. “Have you guys found a lawyer yet?” He asked, knowing the current dilemma in the reintroduction of the Supernatural to the Magical.

Newt’s cousin was so sorry that he wouldn’t be able to help Peter, but he has other clients to deal with. They’ve already asked Newt if he could have one of his brothers attend, but it seems that while they are done with their studies, they haven’t gotten their license yet. “Newt had sent letters both to MACUSA and Ministry of Magic, there haven’t been any replies,” Peter answered him. “By the way, there’s a letter for you—from MACUSA. They sent it to me because they have no idea how to get a hold of you. I accidentally opened it.”

“That’s okay.” Peter placed an arm under Stiles’s head. “What does it says?”

“It seems that MACUSA found out that the Ministry of Magic has assigned an Auror to teach you…Defense Against the Dark Arts and they would also like to offer their services on that front.” Peter sounded amused. “There were files attach to the letter—you are free to choose who you want for a tutor.”

“I’ll pen them a reply,” Stiles said. “I won’t attach my name though.”

“Understandable.”

“You also need to sign a treaty with Chris before you leave for this meeting.” Stiles let Peter’s hand caress his stomach. He feels like a lazy cat getting a belly rub. “With your niece and nephew planning on coming back, they will unknowingly bring with them, hunters. We both know that the hunters Kate will take with her doesn’t follow the code, but it’s a nice piece of paper to flaunt once shit goes down.”

“The current Matriarch wouldn’t damn us so much if she sees we’re playing by their rules,” Peter concluded. “I’ll get a copy of the old treaty in the Vault. Let’s use that for now, I’m sure that changes will happen soon enough—there’s no need to clue in Chris about what we’re planning to do by drafting a treaty with new demands.”

“Don’t antagonize Chris.” He said sternly. “Newt may insist that everything he is doing for Chris’s manipulation, but we all can see that he’s starting to…develop feelings for the man.” He faked distaste in his voice—as if he’s only tolerating Chris because of Newt. Stiles had always respected the Argent for everything he had done in a time that no longer exists. Right now, it would be suspicious if he showed Peter his respect for Chris—the hunter hadn’t done anything that would warrant the amount of respect Stiles has for him.

“Newt—at the end of the day, is still a boy.” Peter’s tone was understanding. “It’s not that hard to fall for the man who sees you as the center of his world. It’s a heady feeling—that kind of affection.”

Stiles kissed Peter on the lips. It feels like they’re having two different conversations at once. “It is.”

* * *

Gally can still smell bruises on Isaac now and then. The other teen would try to hide it from him, but Gally would just pull him close and tell Isaac that he’ll help in applying the salve. Isaac would then give him a thankful smile.

As much as Gally wants to break the older Lahey’s neck, he understands the mind of the abused. He once was—so afraid to leave the relative safety of the Glade because of the uncertainties that he doesn’t want to face. It’s always the fear of the unknown that stops a person from deviating from the painful known.

He watched as the sickly green hue disappears from Isaac’s lower torso. Gally was about to apply more of the salve on Isaac’s forearm, but he was stopped. Isaac smiled bitterly at him, Gally knew why. He merely nodded at Isaac’s decision, respecting it before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. The two of them are broken individuals—perhaps their jag pieces would match and they’d be whole together.

There’s a knock from the doorway and without even turning Gally knew that it was Peter—asking for permission to enter his room. Thomas had told them that Peter was insane before, but as the intelligent man before them stands, Gally can’t imagine insanity on Peter. Evil he can easily imagine, but not insane.

“What’s up?” He asked. Gally noticed the disgust in Peter’s eyes when it landed on Isaac’s bruise. He knows his Alpha would help him dispose of the older Lahey’s body if need be.

Peter threw magazines at him that he easily caught. Gally looked at it, then looked back at Peter in confusion. It was a furniture magazine—why would Peter give him that when the internet is all the rage today?

“I’ll be busy with meetings regarding the reintroduction.” Peter started. “I won’t be here when the house is finished. As the Right Hand, it is part of your job to make sure that the pack is living comfortably. So, I decided that you will be the one to decorate the Pack House.”

“What?” Gally exclaimed. “Have you lost your mind? Just look around my room—I’m all function with a bit of comfort, there is no design style here in my space.”

“Technically, simplicity is a form of style.” Isaac gave his two cents.

“The words I used are ‘living comfortably’,” Peter repeated. “I didn’t say stylishly, nor did I said luxuriously—though, Cora or Minho might try. If I leave this to Newt, I’m afraid that I will come home to an antique shop, Frypan will focus most of his energy in the kitchen—and as much as I love Stiles, blue jeep and plaid are the things he is known for.”

“Well, with me in charge of this one you might come home to a military barrack.” Gally couldn’t help but flip through the pages, wincing at the brightly colored sofas with funny shapes. He doesn’t believe that people can seat on those chairs.

“I can help.” Isaac volunteered shyly—he always is whenever he wants to do something for the pack. It will take a while before Isaac becomes completely comfortable with his place in the pack, but Gally knows that one day he will be. By then, Isaac will have enough courage to leave his abusive Dad. “I mean, I think choosing simple but cohesive pieces would be easy enough.”

“Yes.” Peter nodded in approval. “That’s a clever idea—keep things simple so it would easily go with anything we might add in the future.” He turned to Gally. “I think all you and your mate will be able to do this task.”

Gally hummed. “Not yet mated.” He told Peter even though he knows that Peter must be aware of that fact. “No one is getting mated until they are of legal age.”

“Does that mean you’ll mate will Isaac the moment he turns eighteen?” Peter asked—Gally knows it’s just to tease Isaac into blushing.

“I figured I’ll wait until he’s done with college.” He answered honestly enough—but it is also a jab at Peter. He is not disrespecting his Alpha, he’s just reminding Peter of the age difference between him and Thomas. Even if they did come back from the future—honestly, the constant fear for their lives have stunted their emotional growth. They need time to get a handle on their crazy.

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot—but have you talked about it with Isaac?” It was a pointed question that got Gally turning to Isaac. The other teen’s brows were bunched together in the center of his forehead. “I’ll leave it to you two.”

Peter must have noticed something between him and Isaac to force this topic into the light. Gally would admit that he’s not the most observant in the pack. Still, he likes to think that he and Isaac are on the same page.

The two of them were quiet for a moment before Isaac opened his mouth. “Were you ever going to ask me what I want?” Isaac asked quietly—tone hard but not angry.

Gally shrugged, he didn’t want to answer the question directly. “We’re young, we’re stupid—I don’t want to ruin what we have because of a rushed decision.”

“What I hear you’re saying is; I’m young, I’m stupid—you already made the decision and excluded me in the process of it.”

“Isaac, that wasn’t my intention and I certainly don’t think you’re stupid,” Gally said to him.

Isaac snorted at that.

“I just wanted to err on the side of caution. Mates are serious business to werewolves—it’s more binding than marriage. If we mate and you find yourself not wanting to be with me after a few years, you can move on—the same can’t be said with me. A werewolf only has one mate, therefore only mate once.” He explained. “There’s no moving on for us.”

Isaac was staring at him in contemplation, lips purse a bit to the side. “So, you’re saying that you are trying to be careful in case I lose interest in you.” Isaac’s tone suggested that Gally is being idiotic. “That’s…reasonable enough, I guess. It’s just…it seems like you’re always going to think and expect the worse in me—which isn’t the way to be in a relationship.”

“It’s not that I’m expecting the worse from you.” Gally rubbed the back of his head. “I’m expecting the worse from me. I’m far—and I mean far from perfect, this is proof enough. My protectiveness can sometimes be too much—it can be suffocating, while I am trying to be better, it will always be a part of me.”

Isaac started flipping through the magazine. “I have a feeling that no matter what I say, it won’t settle your worries. So, I won’t say anything—I’ll just show you.” He looked up at Gally. “I want to change it though since I’m not completely sure about college. How about when I reach the age of twenty-four? When I’m twenty-four, we get mated to each other—then I’ll spend my whole life exasperated because we will be working out your insecurities.”

Gally found it in himself to smile. “Only if we also work on yours.”

“Deal.” Isaac smiled at him, big and wide.

* * *

Frypan likes to think that he’s getting better with the werewolf business. He can feel his werewolf’s presence inside his mind, and aware of what the wolf wants without any further nudging. He can extend his senses—not the same way as Minho does, but better than when he first started. Fighting is the one thing that revels at, his wolf likes to show off their strength. They don’t have the same flashy move as Gally and Minho, but Fry is sure that he can take down werewolves bigger than him.

The tentative like his wolf feels for Allison is blooming into something more. Both the man and wolf appreciates the changes in Allison’s personality. Each day that passes, she becomes more and more like the mate they want and need. Most importantly, Allison is becoming the Matriarch that they want to be.

“Why weren’t you angry?” Allison asked him. They are walking side by side, making their way to the mall. “Isn’t their fault why your parents are…gone?”

Frypan had shared with Allison the reason why he grew up in a werewolf pack. There’s a lesson to be learned in it, lessons that Allison needs. “It wasn’t their fault.” He told her. “They tried to stop the feral Omega, and it just so happened that my parents were in its path—anybody could have died that night. Hell, a lot more people could have died if it weren’t for the pack.” He reached for her hand. “It is sad that I didn’t grow up having parents, but the truth is they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“What about the hunters?” Allison asked next. “You must be mad at them—after all, that they did to you guys.”

“The same goes with them.” Fry smiled at her. “Not all werewolves are good, therefore not all hunters are bad.”

“Still, you must have thought about revenge.” This time, Allison doesn’t only sound sad—she sounded distressed.

“An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.” He stopped walking, Allison turned to fully face him. “I don’t want revenge—it’s too cheap a thing to give to my former pack. What I want is justice, and to make sure that peaceful werewolf packs wouldn’t be targeted anymore.”

Allison was quiet for a moment—weighing his words. Frypan hopes that he had conveyed his message enough for her to understand. He could admit, to very few people that being able to mold someone is exhilarating. He knows how bad that sounds, but it is what he feels. He isn’t like Thomas and Newt that still struggles with their morality. Fry learned to accept every part of himself, even the ones that are just starting to emerge from the dark recesses of his mind.

“You want to make it right,” Allison concluded. “You want to make it right for everyone.”

“I knew you will get it.” They started walking again. He let out a dramatic sigh. “Once everything is settled and I know that there wouldn’t be much trouble for…couples like us, I’ll ask Peter for you to have a place in the pack.” He knows it’s not likely, but Allison clings to him because of a promise of a future together. He has to reinforce that.

“I believe in you.” She encouraged him.

Since coming back to the past, Frypan would sometimes lie awake at night and wonder. He thinks about all the trials they have been through and all the changes that they’ve undergone. He can’t help but ask himself sometimes what could be the changes that happened to him. Maybe it’s a little too late for him to think about it, but change is constant—they may wither away, but change will stay.

He thinks about the sweetness that most people think he has. He would admit to being gentle in handling other people, but he isn’t all that sweet. He doesn’t think a sweet person would be capable of doing what he’s doing—including the things that he had done. There has to be an underlying ferocity to survive everything that they did.

Thinking deeply about it, if there’s anyone in their Pack who is sweet—it would be Gally. He’s always so careful with Isaac. Still trying to find the fine balance between manipulating Isaac and letting Isaac fall freely. Fry fears for his friend, there’s a chance it might fire back and Gally will be alone.

None of them wants to be alone. Even Minho is struggling with the mere thought of it. In a pack wherein most members are paired off, Minho focused on other things to keep his mind off the possibility of not finding someone. Fry would like to think Cora eased Minho’s worries—no matter how he seems to annoy the younger Hale.

Let Frypan digress. He isn’t sweet. He is gentle. He’s gentle in everything he does—even in manipulation. He had never thought that he would have a deft hand in it, but he is starting to see that his gentleness works in his favor.

He doesn’t think it’s a game. He doesn’t think he has the upper hand. He knows he’s getting more confident with how he handles Allison.

Maybe he should stop and think. Maybe he should ask himself questions about his morality. Maybe he should show mercy—leniency—something—anything that would confirm everyone’s opinion of his that he is sweet.

There was a time wherein he was doing all of this with the thought of a better future in mind. Frypan has to remember when it stopped being about the future and became the opportunity to have a mate that will never leave. A mate that would suit him.

It’s all so fucked up—he knows. They all know. But, they think about the alternative—the ‘what if’ they didn’t do enough and they would have to watch the world spiral down to destruction once again. It will be forever a battle of conscience. The only way to assuage their guilt is to make sure the people they’re manipulating are kept happy.

* * *

Minho had developed a distaste for silence. The lack of noise brings him back to the cell of WCKED. He has to physically fight lethargy by getting up to his feet and moving.

When he was freed from the facility, he struggled with the silence that surrounded them during the night. It was when he picked up an old I-pod and shoved the headset in his ears. Hunkered down in a dusty bunk, he snickered at Justin Bieber’s Never Say Never—because isn’t that just apt.

As they travel during the day, he plays the I-pod on some barely working speaker to share it with the rest of the Gladers. There were songs they sing to, some songs only some of them sings to, and there were songs only one of them can sing to. It started as a funny game to memorize all the songs they can just so they can sing to it.

There they were—in the middle of dunes, walking under the heat of the sun, trying to survive for another day and singing to whatever song that plays. Off-key and wacky, mumbling and screaming. A moment of simple happiness.

When they returned to the facility to help with the cure, Minho continued to share his music with everyone else. It turns out that he wasn’t the only one that has been listening to songs. They shared the songs they have and played in their common rooms whenever they’re allowed to. Silence seems to be far from Minho now.

As the light at the end of the tunnel started to dim, they started going on raids. Abandoned facilities, fallen cities, and what used to be magical places. They went to each one, hoping they would find what they need. Sometimes they do, oftentimes they don’t—they mostly stumbled upon objects that would remind them of what used to be.

The Gladers found out he can play the piano when they found what used to be a music shop. He played for them a short song of mourning. They never really had the chance to mourn—not just for their dead families, but for the rest of the Gladers, too.

Minho remembers Gally grabbing an acoustic guitar, getting looks from the rest of the Gladers. Gally admitted knowing how to play, that’s how they started telling each other trivial things about themselves. It felt like they’re taking back a piece of themselves that they had lost along the way.

Maybe that’s why Minho’s determine to write as many songs as he can remember. Maybe he wants to take back what was taken from him—friendships that will never be because they’re making sure that the world will keep on spinning on its axis. Maybe he just needs the comfort—the familiarity the lyrics bring.

In the middle of the preserve, he has his violin secured between his shoulder and chin. His poise is lackluster at best, but no one’s going to hit him on the back to straighten his spine. He swayed along with the first note, letting it be carried by the wind. Minho closed his eyes as he plays a song about dancing with death.

It is one of the hardest songs he was forced to learn to prove himself to his family. He just wanted them to see that there’s more to him than being a son of the Left Hand. He wanted them to know that he has his dreams and aspirations. He wanted them to know that his mother didn’t do him wrong in wanting him to learn about music. But, this song didn’t prove anything—at least it made his mother smile.

The song ended and he can feel his chest heave up and down—as if he had run a marathon. Minho sighed, he packed his violin and grabbed his backpack. He walked back to where he parked his bike, secured everything, and started to head home.

As expected, the pack was already there. Isaac and Gally hunched over the werewolf’s laptop. Peter and Thomas discussing the final touches for the rules of the council. Newt penning a reply for whoever, and Frypan humming inside the kitchen.

Thudding footsteps descending from the stairs got every werewolf’s attention. Cora has a huge smile on her face, her laptop in her hands. She all but shoved it to Minho. All he could do was raise an eyebrow at her before looking down to check what is it she wants to show him.

He saw that it was an email. He was about to point out that she’s being weird, but upon seeing the title subject of the email—he kept his mouth shut. He read it over at least three times before speaking. “Guys, someone wants us to be the opening act for some singer.”

“What?” Thomas was the first to react.

Minho walked to him and let him read the email sent to Cora. That got him looking up at the female Hale. “Why was it sent to you?”

“I created an email for the band,” Cora said it like it was a no-brainer. “You guys seem serious enough about the band—only makes sense you guys want to be contacted for gigs, right?”

Minho felt his lips stretch to a genuine smile. He bumped his shoulder against Cora. A silent ‘thank you’ for everything that she’s doing for them. He wonders if this is what it feels like to have a sister.

“—to play five original songs as an opening act for a solo performer.” Minho was brought back to the moment by Peter’s voice—reading the email for everyone. “Why isn’t the name of the solo performer written?”

“They’re probably not that big yet,” Cora said with a shrug.

“This is on Friday—this week Friday,” Gally said to them. “Today’s a Tuesday—that won’t give us much time to practice, and Peter will be leaving on Thursday.”

“Dude, we don’t need that much time to perfect five songs.” Thomas pointed out. “Plus, we could go for the easy catchy ones.”

“I’m cool with it if you guys are.” Frypan pulled out the latest dish he’s trying to perfect.

“It would be a shame not to see you play, but I think it would be a greater shame if you don’t,” Peter said with a shrug. “It’s a good opportunity.”

Everyone turned to Newt, they won’t be doing anything without hearing from everyone in the group. “Don’t we need some sort of adult supervision?” He asked—not sure about the rules when it comes to non-magical gatherings. “Peter may be fine with it, but Tommy needs to ask the Sheriff—if the Sheriff says it's fine, we’ll go.”

Minho did a fist bumped in the air. Thomas had told him that the Sheriff has been pretty supportive with their music. He’s more than fifty percent sure that the Sheriff will say ‘yes’ to it.

“I do hope you record the performance,” Peter said to Cora.

“Of course, I will.” She rolled her eyes. “They need content in their YouTube Channel.” Then she lit up like its Christmas in the middle of June. “Hey, how about we record a cover or some song that you already know then post it on YouTube inventing everyone to your gig?” She smiled at that. Minho would admit he likes the idea.

“We can play one of the original songs we will play at the event,” Minho added quickly so no one will complain about playing an additional song.

“I’ll just tell my Dad and we’re golden!” Thomas exclaimed—extending a hand to high five Minho.

* * *

There have been reports of a rogue Omega traveling by their lonesome self through the East Coast. A team has already been dispatched to take care of it. They reached out to Chris to ask if there are any other hunters in the area that can be their back-up.

While he was typing up a response, he couldn’t help but think of brown eyes and sharp smiles. He wonders if Newt is alone in his…task of securing Beacon Hills. He wonders if he’ll get an email alerting him of a werewolf in Beacon County.

His finger hovered over the enter key. Chris shook himself off his thoughts. He knows he’s going to press it—he always does. So, he did. Closing his laptop with more force than necessary, he wondered what kind of man he’s starting to become.

He took in a deep breath. He reminded himself that the werewolf they are hunting is an Omega—a danger to society. Unlike Newt—the younger man is sane and not at all dangerous.

The thought reminded him of facts he knew about werewolves. If Newt is sane, it means that he has a Pack. There’s a pack in Beacon Hills and it is his job to come to them to sign a treaty. He swallowed hard at that thought. He isn’t sure if he’s ready for Newt to know what he is.

A relationship between a hunter and a werewolf is worse than Romeo and Juliet, and he doesn’t want to let Newt go—ever. Still, if he wants Newt to stay—he’s going to have to come clean about his…other occupation. How could he possibly start his confession?

His thoughts were cut off by the doorbell. His brows furrowed. Newt and Allison wouldn’t be out of the school yet, he quickly concluded that it would be someone else. He got up from his chair and headed straight to the front door. He readied himself to give a friendly enough greeting only for his smile to falter upon seeing the man at the other side of the door.

Peter Hale smirked at him—sensing that he isn’t someone Chris wanted to see. “Christopher.” The werewolf greeted him. “I do apologize for the delay in our meeting. I’ve only found out about your move here in town.” The smile turned into a smile that is far too smug for Chris’s liking.

“Hale.” He coldly nodded at the man—hoping that his fear wouldn’t come across. “I suppose your family still holds the preserve.” What does that mean for Newt’s work? He asks himself. Did he succeed? Did he fail?

“Naturally.” Peter pulled out a piece of paper from the case that he was holding. “I copied the treaty your family had with my sister. Don’t worry, I read it over before deciding if it’s the kind of treaty I want to continue.”

Chris reached for the paper. His eyes move quickly over the document. It is the standard treaty they give to packs that had existed for years in one area. He honestly can’t tell if there should be changes done in it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll sign it right away.

“How many are you in your pack?” It’s not a question usually asked.

Peter narrowed his eyes at him. “How many hunters do you have at disposal?”

Too fucking many, Chris mentally answered. He wanted to ask if Peter knows about Newt—if Newt is part of his pack, but he stopped himself. “When will I meet the Alpha?” It’s only right that he meets with the Alpha and Emissary.

“You’re looking at the Alpha right now.” Peter spread his hands to the sides as if to showcase himself. “As for the Emissary…he’s pretty busy. You know how their work goes, they have to liaise between packs and meetings can just take so much of their time.”

That made Chris recall his and Newt’s first date. He clenched his teeth at that. “Don’t you want to negotiate any part of this treaty?”

“Right now, there’s no need to,” Peter said. It was saccharine sweet that Chris almost vomited inside his mouth. “If ever we feel the need to write up a new treaty, I’m sure you’ll set some time for us.” Peter paused meaningfully. “You are an Argent after all.”

There was something in the way Peter said it that set Chris’s teeth on edge. He looked down at the treaty. A part of him doesn’t want to sign it simply because it felt like a trap, but he knows if the werewolves started running amok when he was given the chance to put them in line he will feel guilty.

As if knowing what was going through his head, Peter pulled out a pen from the inner pocket of his coat. Chris took it from his hand and signed the dotted line at the end of the document. Peter took the pen from his hand and also signed the treaty, but it was with an annoying flourish.

“If you give me your email, I’ll send you a digital copy of it.” Chris quickly pulled out a calling card that he has. It has all the contact information that Peter would need to keep in touch with him. “It was nice doing…this with you. Have you good day.” Peter didn’t wait for Chris to say any parting words before heading back to his car and driving off.

Chris went back inside, headed straight for his office, and silently hoped he didn’t fuck anyone by signing that treaty—especially Newt.

* * *

Newt can remember the rush when they performed in front of a crowd. The cheer and applause, the audience singing along. It was electrifying—not the same way magic is, but in its way performing is magical, too.

Frypan parked the car on the driveway of the Argent residence. They have Allison with them, the couple would be asking for Chris’s permission to go on a date, while Newt would like to spent some time with his…lover. Allison had been giving him sideways glances, a silent approval to what he is doing.

Allison opened the door for them and called out to Chris. The older man appeared from his office, looking at them with a slightly confused expression. “Can I go out with Fry?” Allison asked right away.

Chris raised an eyebrow at that, but before he could say anything—Frypan piped up. “Allison’s been talking about this coffee shop that also has an indoor archery range. I was enticed by the menu they have shown online, but she wanted to shoot some arrows.” Fry joked lightly and it got Newt snorting a laugh.

“What time will you drive Allison home?” Chris asked.

“We only have three hours of free time today,” Newt answered this time. “We have an event to prepare for.”

Allison glanced at her wristwatch. “So, I’ll be home by six-thirty or seven—adding the time for the drive.”

“I’ll pick up Newt when I drop off Allison,” Frypan added and Newt had to blink at his friend. Yes, he planned on staying but they didn’t need to be that obvious about it.

Chris crossed his arms over his chest. “If you guys aren’t here by seven fifteen, I’m calling the Sheriff’s department.”

“Oh, God.” Allison groaned half-heartedly. “Don’t embarrass me in front of Stiles’s Dad.” She grabbed Frypan by the arm and started pulling him to the door.

“Then be sure to be home on time,” Chris called out after them.

“Bye, Dad! Have fun with Newt.” Allison called back cheekily.

Newt rubbed his face with his hands. He can’t seem to get used to all the teasing. He listened as the door open and close before looking up at Chris. The older man was wearing an amused expression, finding delight in Newt’s mortification. Newt punched him on the shoulder.

Amusement turned into a big smile, Chris reached out to him and enveloped him between the older man’s arms. Newt let himself be settled there—liking Chris’s closeness and warmth. It wasn’t long before they aligned their bodies for a kiss. They stood there, holding each other, sharing a kiss, and letting everything else fall to the background.

Newt let his hands travel up Chris’s arms to his shoulder, neck—till he had dug his fingers on Chris’s hair. He can feel Chris’s arms—strong around him and holding him close. Newt knew enough about Chris’s like and dislike that he’s confident in deepening the kiss. Chris let out a moan and Newt answered it with his own.

They parted with a sigh. Newt took that as an opportunity to speak. “I’m actually here to talk to you about something.” They put their foreheads together, his eyes were closed. “You sidetracked me.” He said it teasingly.

“Should I apologize?” Chris asked in good humor.

“No.” Newt smiled, moving forward to steal a chaste kiss. He opened his eyes and saw Chris looking at him—eyes shining with emotion Newt can almost name. “We have time.” Newt removed himself from their embrace, grabbed Chris by his hand, and climb the stairs.

Chris raised an eyebrow at him—smile never leaving his lips as he follows Newt. “Is this what you’re really after?”

Newt shook his head from side to side. “But, I won’t waste an opportunity to make love to you.”

He saw Chris’s eyes darken at that. He led them to the master bedroom wherein he proceeded to take Chris’s clothes off—caressing the muscle-packed body. Chris joined the program, tugging Newt’s shirt over his head and placing an open-mouthed kiss on every available surface he can find. Soon, they are both naked on the bed and writhing against each other.

Newt knows he should have prioritized their talk—he knows that, but something about Chris's touch makes it almost impossible to deny. He wanted to chide himself. Chris wasn’t even trying to bed him—he was the one that initiated this. The pad of Chris’s fingers pushed the button inside of him, Newt threw his head back and held on to Chris tighter. It was as if he’s a slave to this feeling. He has to get himself under control. Their encounters couldn’t always be like this.

He scraped his fingers on Chris’s skin. Newt is subconsciously aware that it will leave marks, but he doesn’t care. “Chris…Chris…” He started to chant, unsure why or what he wants to say.

This lack of control—lets Newt not think. He isn’t actively trying to force memories at the back of his mind. He isn’t thinking of things he has to do for the future. He is simply in the moment—and he knows it’s all because of Chris.

“I need…” He mumbled against Chris’s skin, an arm hooked around his neck as he kept his thighs open for him. “I need your love.” He knows he sounded desperate. “Please, Chris. I need it.”

Chris leaned down, kissing Newt as he made them one. Their lips were disconnected when Chris needed air to steady himself over Newt. The younger man opened his eyes and saw the expression of bliss over Chris’s face. Newt cupped the older man’s face, peppering Chris with kisses.

“I love you.” Chris declared with an unyielding passion. He said it over and over again, and Newt knows it is the truth. He didn’t need magic to know it. He can feel it from the way Chris moves—so careful and tender, making sure that there isn’t a trace of pain or discomfort.

Newt matched the rocking of Chris’s body, reveling in the pleasured sounds Chris is letting out. Their thrusts quickened. Their breaths became more labored. They were soon falling off the edge, being submerged by the water and coming back up as they try to catch their breaths.

Chris kissed him for the last time before extracting himself from Newt. The older man cleaned them both and Newt welcomed the pampering. Newt knows that even if he showers the werewolves will still smell sex on his skin—just like they did when he came home from his sleepover with Chris. It’s not a secret what they do, but Newt doesn’t feel all that comfortable with everyone outright knowing.

He snuggled next to Chris. He’s still a bit shy about his nudity, but he thinks it’s kind of trivial now. He intertwined their hands and sighed when his heart finally settled to its normal heartbeat.

“You mentioned an event,” Chris said, looking down at him. “Does it have something to do with your band?”

“Yes.” Newt started. “We got an email asking us if we can be the opening act for some solo artist. We decided we’d do it if the Sheriff agrees—and he did, but he had a condition. He wanted at least one adult present with us during the whole thing. It usually wouldn’t be a problem, but Cora’s Uncle would be leaving on a Thursday because of a meeting in New York, and my cousin—well, my cousin isn’t good with mug—uh—mundane crowd.” He knows he’s being very on the nose with this one, but he has to seem unsteady after an orgasm. “So, we’re still looking for someone.” He patted Chris's chest. “And, I have to inform you that Allison wants to come with. Prepare for her persuasion tactics.”

“What day and time is the event?” Chris asked.

“Friday, nine pm—it’s two cities away,” Newt explained. “We plan on driving straight from class to the city, check-in a hotel for the night, and head back home after breakfast.”

Chris was quiet for a moment. It made Newt observe the older man closely. “I can come with.” Newt raised an eyebrow at that. He didn’t expect that—and maybe he should have.

“Are you sure?” Newt sat up to stare directly at Chris’s eyes—gauging his seriousness. Minho doesn’t have to say it out loud, but this gig is important to him.

“I’m sure,” Chris answered with a soft smile on his face. “That way Allison can come with, you’ll have adult supervision, and I’ll be able to watch you perform live.”

Newt couldn’t help the shy smile that made itself known on his face. Damn, it would be so easy to forget that Chris is a hunter. But, that’s a mistake Newt will never make.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kind of life you want to live is up to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. Guess what. Sleep is for the weak. You read that right. Hahaha. So, I'm hella tired but also hella happy to be able to write 10k words in such a short time. Still, I promise to myself not to write 10k words per chapter anymore for the future stories that I will write. I learned my lesson. I hope you are still enjoying this because as much as writing this makes my backache and lets me lose sleep, I am still having fun. I can't say that this is the most challenging story I have ever written, but it is the longest. AH! I'm rambling.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I do proofread. Please, pardon me if there are still any mistakes. On to the story...

The drive back to Beacon Hills set Derek on edge. He knows it annoyed Laura that they needed to stop frequently because he was getting antsy inside the car. He just can’t help it.

The past month they were away, they can both feel that changes are happening behind the scene. Since they are not a proper Pack, Laura had trouble gathering information from other Packs. There’s distrust towards them that Derek doesn’t know if it’s justified. The werewolf Pack in New York had never been warm towards them, but he thinks that if they didn’t move—they’d be forced to.

It took them a few days before they even reached Beacon County. Once they were there, it was too late to push ahead for Beacon Hills. So, they spent a night in a motel—Laura was quite vocal about how much she disliked it. Derek tried not to sigh out loud.

Laura had their belongings sent after them. Derek doesn’t know where and he isn’t that bothered since he kept everything important close to him. Though, he’s sure that Laura would go off a tangent if things didn’t go her way.

They hit the road after they had their breakfast. It would only be a few hours before they are back in Beacon Hills. Derek can’t quite wrap his head around that.

He’s trying not to spiral down into a rabbit hole of depression. Maybe if he scowled hard enough he won’t have flashbacks of Paige’s death—or the house fire that he played a major role in. That thought soured his scent enough to catch Laura’s attention.

“What now?” Laura asked him in an irritated voice.

“Nothing.” He answered through gritted teeth.

“You better get over yourself, Derek,” Laura told him pointedly. “We’re here to stay for good. We are going to make this place our home again.”

He chose to not say anything back. Derek’s sure that whatever he has in mind wouldn’t be welcomed let alone accepted. He had long realized that Laura isn’t the same as their mother when it comes to being an Alpha. In all honesty, he never expected Laura to be like their mother—he just didn’t expect that she’d be the kind that…

Derek shook his head from side to side—there’s no point in thinking about it.

They parked in front of another motel. Derek supposes that Laura has no idea where Peter is staying. Some things never change, he thought. Even before the fire, they had no idea where Peter lives. It’s how their mother prefers things.

They checked themselves in, heading straight to their room. Derek scrunched up his nose because of the mixed scent inside the room. A human nose would deem the whole place clean, but with their enhanced senses, they know that the cleaning service was done half-heartedly.

“Stay here.” Laura didn’t make it an order. It was obvious to her that he doesn’t have anywhere to go anyway. “I’m going to talk with my emissary.” She didn’t wait for any reply—just walked out the door, leaving Derek alone in the motel room.

He expected Laura to come back after an hour or two when she didn’t, Derek got a little restless. He never did well being cooped up. He tried burning the energy through simple pacing. He wasn’t surprised that it wasn’t enough.

He needs to run, or jog—at the very least walk briskly. He debated with himself first before throwing his hand up in the air in frustration. Derek opened the door, hesitated for a second then walked through it, and closed it behind him. He’s sure that he can keep a low profile while in town. It has been years since he was here, he was already pulling away from his former friends even before the house fire. He’s sure that no one would remember him. He’s half sure.

Derek exited the motel, turning his head this way and that way. He is not sure where he would go, just that he needed to be out and moving. He let his feet take him to wherever only paying half a mind to where he is going.

It wasn’t long before he was walking through the trees of the preserve. He should have known, even before this is the place where he finds solace in. He was mindful in leaving a track, keeping his scent from spreading, and giving away himself through a noise.

There’s a quick transition of musical notes that got Derek tilting his head to the side. He’s not alone in the preserve. He followed the sound of the musical instrument—upbeat yet melancholic. There was a note of sad disappointment in the song that is made obvious by the use of the shrilly high notes. It was as if the musician is making the violin cry.

He crept slowly, catching a glance of a man’s back. Derek watches the violinist sway along with the stroke of his bow. One particular high note had the violinist spinning by the heel of his foot. Derek saw an expression of barely contained anguish on the violinist’s face. He was moving back and forth and has his knees bends as he ended the song with a very little flourish but too much emotion.

The violinist stayed in posed for a moment before letting his arms fall to his sides with a sigh. Derek would guess that the song tired him out. The wind blew and the violinist looked up at the sky for a moment.

The sounds of vibration traveled through the air. The violinist held both bow and violin in one hand as he reaches for the phone inside his pocket. “’lo?” He answered. Derek wasn’t close enough to hear the other end of the conversation, but he doesn’t mind. He can listen to the violinist talk. “I’m at the preserve—yeah.” The violinist huffed a laugh. “I like playing for the trees.” There was a pause. “Yeah, I can pick those up—just text me the items. Yeah, sure, I won’t be late.” The violinist repeated the last part with amusement. “I won’t be late.” Another pause. “See ya.”

The violinist pocket his phone once again. He crouched down to pack his instrument and started making his way out of the forest. From the familiarity of the violinist’s movement, Derek can tell that it isn’t the first time he played on that spot in the preserve. He followed the violinist to his bike—watching him secure the instrument in place before riding off.

* * *

Peter couldn’t remember if Talia ever went away as frequently as he does for Pack business. Then again, he and his Pack are trying to achieve something that hasn’t been done before. Maybe he should give himself some slack—he is starting to feel guilty about leaving the teens to fend for their own. When he did voice that out loud, Gally raised an eyebrow at him—unimpressed.

“No disrespect meant—or whatever, but we can take on an army if need be,” Gally said to him.

Peter—he never knew when he started to become one but he worries, wasn’t assured by that. “It’s better if you don’t.”

Gally shrugged. “I’m just saying…we can take care of ourselves and we can take care of any threat that will come our way. You should focus all your energy on the…Supernatural and Magical…ties or something.” He shook his head from side to side, probably shaking off the confusion.

“You will call me if something comes up, right?” Peter asked.

Gally stares at him for a second before answering. “Probably not.” It’s Peter’s turn to look at him unimpressed. “Look, Thomas and Newt have been slaving away in making sure that the Supernatural becomes a part of the Magical government. If we call you back because of an attack when we’re fronting how badass it is to have both a Wizard and Spark in our ranks, it wouldn’t go well for us. It doesn’t look good if our Alpha isn’t confident in the ability of his Pack to protect the land.”

Peter considered his words. They are true but there is a nagging at the base of his skull telling him that it isn’t the entirety of it. He tilted his head to the side. “Stiles is planning something, isn’t he?” Gally didn’t answer, he just kept his expression neutral. Peter’s almost proud, he thought his Beta well in hiding his tells. “Is anyone going to get hurt?”

“If there will be, we will patch them up.”

“Is it for the Pack?”

Gally snorted a laugh. “Everything Thomas does is for the Pack—never doubt that.”

Peter nodded to keep the swelling of emotions from leaking through his scent. Stiles truly fits inside a Pack. Stiles is meant to lead and Peter is ever thankful that he is the one Stiles deemed worthy to lead next to.

Now and then, Peter would try to look back to his tattered past. He will try to recall if there has been anyone who made him feel the way Stiles makes him feel. Like an inexperienced pup, but also the fiercest werewolf there is. Stiles brings him down to his knees, but also raises him to the stratosphere. Weak and strong at the same time.

No, he can’t remember anyone making him feel like that before. Then again, he wasn’t a…a feeling man before the fire, at least he thought he wasn’t. Perhaps he was and he just tried to cover it up with the help of blue eyes and predatory smirks—safe behind the mask of the cold Left Hand of the Hale Pack.

He’s reminded of Cora telling him that he’s an Alpha now, and he must act like it. He thinks back to his father, proud like any other Alpha, decisive in how he wants to protect the land and hates any sign of weakness in his children. He thinks back to his sister, softer around the edges—and image of a peaceful Alpha, but she uses the Left Hand to quietly eliminate anyone who threatens her reign over the land.

Peter doesn’t want to emulate either of them. They were fine Alphas, but they leave a lot to be desired. While he is not aiming to be the ultimate Alpha, he knows he needs to be more than the former Alphas of Beacon Hills.

No one will outright admit it, but he’s leading multiple Packs—other Alphas are deferring to him in the coming of this new age. He isn’t just the Alpha and Protector of Beacon Hills. He remembers Newt telling the Pack that his title will only get longer as time goes on. It is both exciting and unnerving.

He realizes the question is about what kind of Alpha he wants to be, but rather the kind of Alpha he needs to be. The flight to New York would be an adequate time to figure it out. If not, he’s not afraid to learn as he goes. He has his entire Pack behind him—with Stiles and Newt not afraid in calling him out if need be.

Newt walked in with letters in his hand and a smudge of ink on his cheek. “I got a reply from my Mom’s former student.” There’s a small smile on his face. “I met her once when I was younger, a bit excitable—but overall smart and reliable; Suzy Cattermole. Her focus is mostly on studying extinct creatures—I believe that she got that idea from muggles studying the remains of didosaurs—“

“Dinosaurs.” Peter corrected him.

“Yes, that!” Newt pointed at him. “Well, anyway. She has a good background in law because legislation had affect creatures, too. Also, she’s very excited to meet you—just a warning, when I say she’s very excitable I mean it.” There’s a warning in Newt’s tone that Peter just doesn’t understand why it’s directed to him. Newt rolled his eyes. “No flirting.”

From the side, Gally had the nerve to snort.

He stared at the two with offense written all over his face.

“You flirt as much as Minho tease,” Gally commented. “It means if something next to you is breathing…” He tilted his head to the side meaningfully.

“I do not.”

“You do.” Newt seconded Gally’s—unfair observation. “Look, just don’t flirt with Suzy Cattermole because we need her alive and a case of murder is the worst way for Tommy to be introduced to the Magical World.”

Peter’s expression turned into one of disbelief. “Stiles wouldn’t.” Both of the teenagers just stared at him. “Fine, I wouldn’t flirt.”

“Thank you.” Newt continued. “Suzy will meet you at the lobby of MACUSA.” With that, he left Peter alone with Gally once again.

Peter looked at his Right Hand. “Will Stiles really?”

Gally shook his head from side to side. “I suggest spending the night with Thomas. You will only be away for a few days but the shank had gotten used to you being around.”

Peter thought that it wasn’t a bad suggestion. He did want to spend a private moment with Stiles without the fear of the Pack hearing or smelling them. He’ll just have to make sure that the Sheriff isn’t home before he creeps through the window.

* * *

Stiles served the plate of food in front of his Dad with a proud flourish. Thanks to Frypan, he’s learning to cook delicious yet healthy food options. He hasn’t heard his Dad complain for the past months. Stiles is starting to think that his Dad isn’t aware that what he’s eating are vegetables.

Noah snorted a laugh when Stiles did a chef’s kiss before sitting on his side of the table. Stiles would admit that his relationship with his Dad now is better than it ever was. He knows that being truthful isn’t the only thing that helped in their closeness. With the hard-earned maturity he has, he gained a perspective that he knows he wouldn’t have when he was still sixteen and stupid—and that’s what he was back then. Sixteen and stupid.

He wanted too much too soon. Stiles can blame it in being practically being invisible, both at home and in school, whenever he’s not going around finding trouble. But now, he knows the visibility isn’t worth it if it means lives lost. Thinking about it now, he wants to cringe because of the choices he made.

“How’s school?” His Dad asked him—it’s the man’s go-to question whenever he wants to talk about serious matters with Stiles.

“School’s fine.” He answered with his lips quirking to the side. “I’m actually doing better than I expect with all this—Supernatural and Magical…stuff in the air. I’m thinking it’s the studying schedule that Newt forced on us.”

Noah hummed under his breath, a considering look took over his face. “The magic stuff…you say that Newt’s been teaching you.”

“Yeah.” Stiles rubbed his nape. “Basic stuff, mostly whatever was taught in their magic school. Though, the Ministry of Magic and MACUSA had—uh, suggested people that will teach me more advanced things.” He had explained the Magical governing body to his Dad—he’d been feeding Noah information about the Supernatural and Magical, at least what he had learned from Newt, whenever the opportunity shows itself. “I turned down MACUSA because Newt already knows the person the Ministry is sending—it helps that the Theodore person they’re sending is a werewolf and accepted Peter as his Alpha.”

“What advance…learning do they want you to have?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts.” He answered. “It’s…like combat magic—nothing deadly, though Newt already let me read about the three most dangerous spells there is in the magical world.”

“How good are you with magic now?” From his Dad’s tone, Stiles can tell that it is pure-curiosity that drives him to ask.

That has Stiles putting down his fork, he realizes that he hadn’t explained to his Dad how his Spark works. Though, the question prompted him to mentally analyze his ability. He barely thinks about using basic spells, it’s natural now and he certainly believes that he will be able to do it because he had done it a dozen times already. He does need a couple of seconds to imagine an object clearly when he’s transfiguring something. Unlike Newt who can transfigure something within a second.

“I’m better at charms than transfiguration, not too shabby at potions either—runes is another thing that comes in easily enough.” He answered. When he looked up, he saw his Dad’s confused expression.

Stiles cleared his throat before explaining. “Charms is—uh, making objects do things. Let’s say…levitating things or changing the size. Transfiguration is changing the physical appearance of the object—turning a broom into a hop, a mouse into a teacup—“

“Why would anyone change a mouse into a teacup?”

Stiles had to snort a laugh on that one. “Dad, I’ve only met two Wizards and mostly read about them—but they’re a weird bunch.”

“And, what are the runes you were talking about?”

“It’s a form of writing used by Magical people for thousands of years. It’s mostly used to translate records, but in doing rituals—it’s one of the most essential aspects of some rituals.”

“The writings you and Newt put on the stump and our bodies.” His Dad recalled. “And, the potion?” Noah’s brows were furrowed. “It’s…thing that you used for writing during the…ritual.” It’s almost funny how his Dad tries the words out for the first time, trying to get comfortable with using them.

“It can be spread over any surface area—depending on the kind of potion, mostly it is ingested. There’s a different kind, Newt teaches me medical-related potions—healing potions, blood replenishment, and energizers.”

Noah was quiet for a moment before speaking. “And with all of that, you kids still have time for the band.”

“The band really is an unexpected thing,” Stiles confessed. “I needed a reason why I can’t be with Scott all the time anymore, so I said we’ve made a band.”

“Why not just tell Scott?” A part of Stiles wanted to tell his father the truth—not to disparage Scott. He wanted to tell the truth because he simply didn’t want to lie to his Dad. He doesn’t have that luxury anymore. He can only tell his Dad half-truths whenever he asks questions about Scott.

“We both know that Scott grew up sheltered.” Stiles started—still unsure how he would go with this. His Dad waiting patiently for his next words. “It let him grow up thinking that everything is black and white, when in reality—everything is just shades of gray.”

“You think that he will see normality as the good thing and since magic and werewolves are not normal he will think that they’re bad.”

“Pretty much.” He mumbled those two words. “Plus, there are laws in place about letting people know about magic. Since I’m a magical person, I need to follow the laws of—not only the non-magical people but also the magical.”

Noah nodded in his direction. “I understand.”

Stiles knows that there will be more conversations like this with his Dad in the future. He has to mentally prepare himself for it. His Dad is a sharp man and it wouldn’t do if he gets caught lying. It would break both of their hearts.

He waved his Dad goodbye as he walked out of the front door. Noah decided to take the night shift for the week to help a newbie adjust to being a deputy. He half wonders if it is Parrish.

He was getting ready for bed when he felt a shift in the warding surrounding the house. Stiles peeked from his bathroom door. As he expected, Peter’s inside his room and seated on his desk chair. He finished up his nightly routine and sat on his bed—facing Peter.

To say that the Alpha had been busy wouldn’t suffice. The month Peter spent in Beacon Hills wasn’t used for relaxation. He was overseeing the finishing touches of the Pack House, corralling the other Packs, and talking to MACUSA about the agreement between the Supernatural and Magical. There were too many letters and emails to be written, and too many calls to be answered that Stiles had to wonder how the man is still breathing. Their responsibilities had also kept them from doing anything for their courtship. Which is a bummer if anyone asks Stiles.

“I had the strangest conversation with Gally and Newt.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at that. He patted the open space on the bed, an invitation for Peter to join him. “What was it about?”

Peter joined him in the bed, scenting him along the way. “They accused me of being a flirt.” Stiles chortled at that. Peter looked at him indignantly. “You agree with them?”

“Peter, if you hadn’t noticed—it is part of your personality.”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t mind if I flirt with others?”

Stiles felt his smile become sharp—too many teeth showing. “I didn’t say that.”

He runs his hands over Peter’s shoulder to his neck. He settled his palm firmly on the Alpha’s nape. Peter followed his quiet coaxing, turning his head to the side with a hum.

“You do realize that I scare most of them away, right?” He added pressure on Peter’s nape. “The girl from the grocery store, the soccer moms we come across, the sleazy construction worker—even the Alphas who try to sniff around you.”

“You will hurt them if they step a toe out of line?” Peter tried turning his whole body towards Stiles, but he has other plans.

“No,” Stiles answered. He used his hold on Peter’s nape to make the werewolf lie down on the bed. “If they dare to step out of line, it will be because you encouraged them to do so. The only reason I let Alpha Reba be is cause you didn’t encourage her whatsoever—she was an uninformed idiot.” He let go of Peter's nape in exchange for laying a hand flat over his chest. “If they start thinking they have a chance with you and started acting like they have the right over you—I will hurt you.”

Stiles let out a strong stinging hex. Peter yelled in shock—wanting to get out of the bed, but Stiles pushed magic through him. He made sure that Peter will stay put.

“Remember, Peter…” He leaned down, his lips touching the shell of Peter’s ears. “In the grand scheme of things, you are replaceable. Now that most Alpha Packs know about me and have a begrudging respect for me, I can take my fucking pick.”

“You wouldn’t.” Peter’s voice isn’t as confident as it usually is. “You wouldn’t risk what we’re building just because someone is stupid enough to pursue me.”

“People can outgrow their usefulness,” Stiles answered.

“You can’t just throw me away!” Peter’s tone is bordering on hurt and disbelief. There’s also a touch of fear there that Stiles almost feels sick in having been the one to put it there—almost. Peter has such a tasty trauma to prey on.

“My heart is a wretched thing. If I can’t have you, no one else will.”

Peter’s breathing stuttered. Stiles placed enough distance between them so he can take a clear look at Peter. The werewolf’s pupils were red and dilated.

“Is that what you want, Alpha?” He teasingly asked. “For me to kill you so no one else will have you?” Stiles didn’t need to hear confirmation from Peter, the werewolf has his tells and Stiles had learned of it a long time ago.

He kissed Peter’s forehead, then nose before capturing his lips. Peter answered his kisses—shyly at first due to the unintentional revelation. Stiles didn’t stop until Peter opened up his mouth for him.

“You are fucked in the head, Peter,” Stiles said softly. “You want to be owned that bad.”

“It’s the trauma of being abandoned.” Peter tried to rationalize.

“Hey, I never said I was a healthy person,” Stiles smirked down at him. “Just remember, I can live with a broken heart but I can’t live in a broken world. If you want me to keep you, you know the price.”

“The world.” Peter swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I expect nothing less than what you promised me.” Stiles reminded him. “But, I think you’ll feel better with a little reminder of your reward.” Peter’s brows furrowed.

Stiles let his hand creep under Peter’s shirt. He flicked a finger over Peter’s nipple and it got the werewolf making a small needy noise at the back of his throat. He decided to heft the shirt up to expose Peter’s chest. He hummed under his breath as he watches the pink nub pebble up for him. Stiles licked his lips before taking it in his mouth and sucking.

“Stiles…” Peter called out to him in a broken voice.

He moved from one nipple to another until they are drenched in his saliva. There’s no doubt that Peter is covered in his scent now. He took a moment to stare at his administration and notice Peter thrusting his hips in the air. The Alpha is trying to relieve some of the pressure of his erection.

Stiles moved his hands lower, dragging his nails on Peter’s skin—watching as it heals immediately after being marked. He doesn’t mind. From the sound that Peter made, he felt it. To Stiles, that’s enough.

He popped the button of the jeans open, and Peter let out a moan. Stiles pulled the zipper slowly, liking Peter’s impatience. Peter helped him in pushing the pants down. Stiles chuckled at the desperation in Peter’s movement. “Such a horny wolf.”

“Please…”

Stiles didn’t hold Peter’s hard dick right away. He admired it first—pink and purple, uncut and leaking. He used his thumb and index finger to pull the skin down. Peter whimpered and Stiles couldn’t hold back the words running inside his mind. “Fuck, Peter, you have a pretty cock. You’re so hard for me, only for me. I can’t wait to fuck you or for you to fuck me.” He wrapped his hands around Peter. “We need to be patient before we find out which one we like best.”

Peter let out a chocked up moan as Stiles started fisting at his erection. Stiles thumbed at the pre-cum leaking and made sure to spread it all over Peter. He went as far as spitting at his palm to make it better for the werewolf.

“Fuck into my hand, Peter.” He encourages the small undulation of Peter’s hips. “Fuck into my hand until you come.”

Peter took that as an invitation to go wild. Thrust upward erratically, his balls slapping against Stiles’s wrists. Stiles held Peter tighter when he felt the cock twitching in his hand. “Stiles!” Peter didn’t last. He came after two more thrusts. Stiles liked the heat of Peter’s cum on his skin.

He held his dirtied hand at Peter’s face. “Lick it clean for me.”

Peter blearily opened his eyes, still tinged red. He opened his mouth to welcome Stiles’s fingers and he sucked it clean. Their eyes—never lost contact.

Once Stiles’s hand was cleaned, he kissed Peter on the lips. He should have known that Peter has a fetish for power. What else could make a man like Peter take notice of someone?

* * *

Newt kissed the crown of Ulu’s head as the owl eat the treat on his hand. He sent a letter to MACUSA giving his opinion on the study that they are doing. He didn’t expect to receive a package back. He feels bad for Ulu, the owl had flown all night to get back to him right away. She deserves the added treat and some affection.

Ulu blinks her big eyes at him, slow and steady. She’s pleased and it pleases Newt, too. How he wishes things were always that simple. Ulu moved to his shoulder, he took that as her permission to open the package.

It was a small package. Newt doesn’t have any idea what MACUSA could possibly send him. If it was any bigger, he’d figure that it would be another journal that needs to be read. But it is merely four by three, he can’t even begin to guess what could be inside.

He pulled at the string, the brown packaging paper loosened. Newt peeled the top off. His brows furrowed when he saw a navy blue pouch with gold seal strings. He had seen one of those before—when he was vacationing in the Wizarding parts of America. It is a self-replenishing pouch of money. He took that at hand and noticed that there’s one of those muggle money cards. Before his confusion grows, he saw that there’s a letter tucked under the two objects.

He unfolded the letter and started reading. Newt’s eyes had to go over certain words and sentences over three times just to be certain that he’s reading what he is reading. He read the letter twice just to be certain.

He hummed under his breath and Ulu hooted softly. “I know,” Newt said to the owl. “I didn’t expect that, too.”

A knock on his bedroom door caught Newt’s attention. He looked up and saw Tommy leaning on the doorframe. “What was it you didn’t expect?”

“My job has finally been given a title, and we’re given a raise.”

The news got Tommy’s eyes widening. “A raise? The job title I understand, but why the raise?”

“Precedence, Tommy.” Newt opened his case and let Ulu dive in to rest. “We’re the very first people to ever hold this kind of position and power. Our roles are vital and they acknowledge that. Also, we have you—the group’s value rises because we have you with us.”

“They’re putting monetary worth on my being a Spark?” The tone of incredulousness can be heard in Tommy’s voice.

“They are trying.” He joked lightly. “Or, they simply want you to like them. Being favored by a Spark is a boon. They would be foolish not to forge a friendship with you.”

“I wouldn’t say they want friendship.”

“Then, you have learned a lifelong lesson.”

Newt secured the pouch and placed the card inside a slot in his wallet. While they are not going hungry, and Peter’s giving them everything they can ask for—it’s nice to know that they will be able to save money, too. For the future, because they are making sure there is one.

Newt and Tommy headed to the garage. Most of the Gladers are there already, plus Cora. They plan on recording one song with an invitation for their gig.

They discussed if they’re going to release the songs that they will play as an EP. Newt doesn’t mind, but most of the songs are the ones he had recalled because of his…intimate relations with Chris. It doesn’t help that Minho wanted to name the album in a very on the nose manner. He tried to protest, he did—but he ultimately lost because Tommy thought it was witty, Gally didn’t think it would hurt anybody, and Frypan thought it was cute.

Cora set up two cameras and was holding one. Newt can say that Peter is spoiling Cora, but none of them minds it. They all think that Cora deserves a little bit of spoiling after everything that happened to their family.

They had to play the song twice before Cora deemed that she had enough footage. She also asked Minho if he can help her in cleaning up the audio. He’s up for anything that will help their band.

Now, they are standing next to each other looking at the camera. Cora wants them to say a few words to the ‘fans’—yes, Newt air quotes that. She wants them to invite the viewers to their first legit gig and check out their EP online.

It took them a couple of takes. Tommy stumbled over his words, Gally’s eyebrows were furrowed to the point that he looked angry, Minho’s making everybody laugh, Frypan couldn’t hold back his laughter, and Newt is just…not sure what to do with himself. Cora threatened them that they wouldn’t like how she’s going to edit the whole thing if they don’t get it together.

Tommy rattled off the time and place first. “That is the time and place where we will be playing live.” He announced. “We know that this is—like a super late notice, but we also got the invitation late. Then we had to ask our parents, look for someone to come with us, etcetera, etcetera—no more of that boring stuff.”

“The song you just listened to is part of our first EP,” Minho said to the camera with his ever charming smile. “Three songs there were written by our very own bassist and vocalist—Newt.”

Minho gestured towards him and Newt waved at the camera, feeling completely awkward. Merlin, where is the suave he feels when he’s playing and singing? It was as if it is non-existent if he doesn’t have his bass with him.

“The title of the EP is ‘Mr. A’.” Frypan piped up. “You can check the rest of the songs in Soundcloud—details will be down below.”

“We hope we see some of you there.” Gally’s tone was surprisingly…welcoming.

The rest of the Gladers turned to him, expecting him to say something. Newt tilted his head to the side. “What they said—this has been the Gladers. See you when we see you.”

“And, cut!” Cora cheered. “Finally. Now, I can get to editing all this—it will be up before ten pm. Send food up to my room.” With that, she collected all the cameras and head back inside the house not sparing them another look.

Tommy turned to him with an eyebrow raised. “’ See you when we see you’, really, Newt?”

He let out a pained groan. “Slim it, shank.”

* * *

Isaac loaded the magazine in the Glock, he has an uzi hanging on his back, and a high-grade stun stick strapped to his thigh. When he first started training, the weight of these things was foreign to him—so much so that he didn’t think he would get used to it. Now though, there’s comfort in them. It’s a reminder that he’s getting stronger—getting better and it is the manifestation of Gally’s promise to him.

“We’re clearing a room,” Gally said to him as Minho also prepares. “We start with the uzi, then change to the Glock by the second clearing. By the third clearing, Frypan will test your hand to hand.”

Isaac let out a shaky breath. Gally had praised him on how quick he is in learning everything that is being taught to him. Still, these guys are werewolves—he’s not sure if he’s ready to do this.

“Hey.” Gally’s tone softened—very different from the commanding tone he adopts whenever he is teaching Isaac and Cora. “You can do this. You’ve handled a Glock and uzi with finesse, and you had outsmarted me on a fight. This is just additional instructions so—if ever you choose to stay with me and we get into a fight with hunters, you will be able to work with the rest of the Pack.”

“Okay.” He said. “Okay.” His breathing became steadier.

“Watch first,” Gally told him. “Observe what Minho and I will do, then I’ll explain the process after the demonstration.”

Isaac watched as the two werewolves get into the open field that they found in Newt’s case. The targets were in place, all of them showing signs that it has been shot at before. He doesn’t exactly know where the Pack found the guns, ammunition, and targets for their practice. He’s guessing that information wouldn’t be willingly given by Gally any time soon.

The primary members of the Pack have always been tight-lipped, Isaac never minded and it seems that Cora and Allison are the same. He wonders if they also notice how…strange the others are in their interaction with other people. They are all too suspicious and there’s an underlying distaste in the general naivety that most teenagers show—as if they aren’t teens themselves.

Relationships—they also struggle with that. Frypan is too careful with Allison, Newt’s too mindful with his interactions with Mr. Argent, Gally can’t seem to stop himself from trying to protect Isaac from everything, Stiles has a very tight hold on Peter and both of them doesn’t seem to see it or they don’t mind, and Minho—well, for all his teasing and friendliness, it seems he’s having a hard time connecting with other people. Minho can connect easily enough with the rest of the Pack, but with outsiders—everything is superficial.

Minho and Gally moved through the course as a unit. Isaac have half the mind to wonder if they have been trained by the military. Their movement was swift, communication was clear, and of course, their shots were spot on. He also noticed that they don’t waste a bullet—efficiency at its finest.

At the end of the course, Gally whipped out the stun stick and started sparring with Frypan. The two moved smoothly. They both know how the other moves and each attack was anticipated with their own. They reached the three-minute mark and broke off. Their focus today was to train Isaac and not to win over the other.

Gally walked back to where Isaac was observing the whole demonstration. “You will take point, I’ll be behind you. You don’t go ahead until I’ve tapped you on the shoulder even if you have told me that the room is clear. If the target has a gun, you go for the head or the heart. They are not armed, go for the hip or stomach so they will fall—that will make it difficult for them to look for a weapon to use against you. At the end of the course, I want you to empty the magazine of your Glock at the head of the target—it’s to test your accuracy after being on the move. Understood?”

“Yes.” Isaac was first uncomfortable by the stream of information and instruction that flows through Gally’s mouth when they train. He had gotten used to it though—and he honestly thinks it’s hot.

“Take point.” Gally tilted his head to the side, gesturing for him to get in place.

Isaac can feel his heart racing, but his mind was starting to focus on the task. He got into place, inhaled, and exhaled deeply. “Going in.” He alerted Gally before walking measured steps into the course.

The targets he saw that are carrying water guns he shot at the chest, he knows he’s playing safe with that but he figured it’s better than shooting at their heads and missing. That would give a live target a time to duck—if that happens he might as well count himself dead as Gally once told him. He accidentally shot one target that’s not carrying anything in the chest. Isaac knows that Gally will be taking that into account for the next training they will be having.

“Clear.” He breathed out to Gally. Isaac waited for half a minute before he felt the pat on his shoulder, despite that—he didn’t dare lower his gun. After the pat, he exchanged his uzi for the Glock. Gun at hand, he turned his head just slightly to the side. “Going in.”

He cleared the room quickly enough and reached the last target. Isaac focused on landing each shot on the target’s head. He emptied the Glock—as per Gally’s instruction, but he knows that he missed at least twice.

“Clear.” He told Gally once again, after loading another magazine into the Glock. He’s still at ready. The pat on his shoulder urged him to move and enter the last leg of the course. He put down the Glock with the safety on before taking hold of the stun stick, but Frypan didn’t wait for him to be prepared before attacking.

Isaac barely held back the yelped that threatened to escape his lips. He dodged two hits before he managed to whip out the stun stick. His first attack was blocked and Isaac’s whole body just reacted through muscle memory.

He punched, he kicked, and he kneed at Frypan. Some hit landed, some were blocked, and some were a miss. He can feel Frypan’s hits, he knows that the werewolf is holding back his strength but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Still, it was different from the pain of being beaten by his father. To Isaac the pain that he feels from his father is simply cruelty, the pain he is feeling now has a purpose—and that purpose is to make him stronger.

Isaac let out a yell as he kicks Frypan square on the check. It didn’t even make Frypan take a step back. He poised his whole body for a roundhouse kick as a follow-up but Gally called an end to their sparring. Isaac fell to his knees, breathing labored but feeling exhilarated. He didn’t win, but he also didn’t lose—against a werewolf, he’d take a draw any day.

Gally approached him, that small yet proud smile on his face makes Isaac feel worthy of him. It’s a sign that Isaac won’t be forever under his protection, no matter how much he likes it he can’t stay there. He’s doing something to be Gally’s equal.

“There are small things we need to work on, but overall—you did great,” Gally said to him.

Isaac surged forward and kissed him. They don’t show intimacy in front of the others, but he just couldn’t help it. Maybe it’s gratitude, maybe it’s love—whatever it is, it feels right. Gally kissed him back—not as deep as he would if they were alone but deep enough to make Isaac smile.

* * *

Cora’s Wednesday night was used to edit the video of the band. It wasn’t as hard as she anticipated, she even had fun adding outtakes at the end of the video. She’s sure that the viewers will like that—people always like those kinds of things. It gives them an idea of how their idols are behind the scenes. She’s also sure that most girls will think that the members are adorable when they are goofing around. She tries not to vomit at the thought.

She uploaded the video on Thursday noon, closely monitoring the comments and tweets while reading the very small article on the magical newspaper about the coming meet for the negotiation of an agreement between the Supernatural and Magical. It’s a bit disappointing. Cora expected that they would be talked about more. Newt did warn her about the Wizarding media. She supposes she should just count this as a win.

Cora’s phone started blowing up after five minutes—which was the duration of the whole video she uploaded on the band’s YouTube channel. She focused on using her phone in checking Twitter and used her laptop in checking YouTube comments. She huffed a laugh at some comments, and rolled her eyes at some, too. She was interested in the tweets that tagged them assuring the band that they will be at the event. She liked those but she didn’t leave any comment—she planned on asking the band if she can leave comments for their fans. She figured that she’d hashtag it with something that will tell them that it is her that is tweeting just like how Minho and Stiles are doing it.

With that in mind, she thought of telling the boys that each of them should tweet at least once. There won’t be much of a problem with that. She just has to remind the boys on assisting Newt in what he should tweet.

By the time they got back from school, Peter was ready to hit the road. They all said goodbye to him—confident in his abilities to get the job done. And Peter wishing them to have a good performance, promising to watch it the moment it is uploaded to the channel.

Allison’s time to shine came shortly after their farewell with Peter. Cora didn’t know when Allison became their stylist, she just did. Allison helped the boys in choosing what they should pack. She even went as far as asking Stiles to transfigure some of his clothing items a certain way to make him look…stage appropriate.

The boys also packed their instruments. It was easy enough for most of them, but Stiles has a collection of cymbals and Cora honestly doesn’t know if one sounds different from the rest. She thought that Stiles will only be bringing his drum sticks. She tried not to stare in horror as the boys load the whole drum set in the back of Gally’s pick-up.

Isaac had the logo of their band scanned from his sketchbook. He cleaned it up and made it look digitalized with the help of Cora. It will be something that can be shown on the screen while the band is playing.

Cora mentally tried to recall if there is anything else that needs to be done. Every item in the checklist in her mind is ticked off. They are simply waiting for Friday to come.

Friday afternoon came and it was a flurry of activity. Besides Gally’s pick-up, they will use Mr. Argent’s SUV. They can’t possibly fit five people inside Stiles’s jeep. Cora wouldn’t stand for that.

Since the instruments were at the back of the pick-up, they put their bags were inside the SUV. In choosing where she would ride in, it was a no brainer—she got in with Allison, Frypan, Newt, and Mr. Argent. Minho and Stiles chose to ride the pick-up because they wanted to make sure the instruments will be secured. For Isaac, it’s obvious because Gally will be the one driving the car, and the two just have the annoying need to be constantly near each other. She swears they are worse than any couple she had met.

They arrived at the location, headed straight to any motel they can stay-in. She didn’t think that they will have trouble finding one—she was wrong. It seems like the solo artist that’s going to be playing is sort of a big deal already and people from all over had come to watch the artist. More power to them, Cora supposes, but they need to find a place to spend the night already. They need to get to the event location to set up the instruments and there are people she needs to talk to for the performance.

“We’re running out of time.” She tried to hold back the impatience in her voice while talking to Mr. Argent. The man is so…specific in his wants. They just need rooms to accommodate nine people. She stared at her wristwatch. “They have to get there by five because of stage prep. Can’t we just take any room available?”

“Well…” The receptionist started. “We have two rooms with one bed that’s for two, one room with two beds, and one room with three beds.”

Cora let out a relieved sigh. “Great, we’ll take it.”

“Who is going to double up?” Mr. Argent asked them.

“Same-sex couples double up,” Cora said it straight to his face. “I’ll share a room with Allison, there’s no way I’m rooming with slobs.” Minho protested at her dig. “The remaining three gets the three-bedroom.” She grabbed the keys at the counter, handed it to Gally, Frypan, and shoved the last one in Mr. Argent’s hands. She glanced at Newt for a second. “Don’t do anything weird.”

“Weird?” Newt echoed.

She bulldozed on, focusing on the members of the band. “I expect you guys back here in five minutes. Stage prep will take two hours, maybe one and a half—don’t bother showering yet they will give us time for that.” She turned to those who aren’t part of the band. “I didn’t ask for extra backstage passes, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh, no!” Allison exclaimed. “I want to watch from the crowd.”

“Me, too.” Isaac seconded.

Cora looked up at Mr. Argent, he shrugged. “I go where Allison goes.”

“Okay—less work for me.” She glanced at her watch again. “Five minutes starts now.” They all picked up their bags and started making their way to their rooms. It’s their first official gig—she’s going to make sure everything is perfect.

* * *

Chris thought that Cora was bossy, therefore perfect to be the band’s manager. For someone so small, she can be a bit intimidating. Chris can see how one lift of her eyebrow got people scrambling to provide to her what she needs. They dropped off the band by the stage and went to take a look around the place.

It was an open-air event without any tickets. It seems like it was part of the carnival’s opening. There were booths for games and food. Allison pointed there and here with a smile on her face, Isaac was the same but he was shier.

After an hour of wandering, they came back to the stage to pick up the boys and get dinner. They got there and saw Cora arguing with some drummer. When they got closer, Chris heard that it has something to do with Stiles’s drum set. He was about to step-in, but Cora verbally smacks the older drummer down. Chris blinked as the older drummer cowers under Cora’s gaze.

They headed to a restaurant that has a big enough table for nine of them. They were taken to the corner, tables were pushed together for them. Dinner was a rambunctious affair. The boys easily move from one topic to another, Chris thought for a moment that he’d be left out of the conversation because of the…age difference. It wasn’t the case. They stick to topics that everyone can join in on.

Being with Newt, Chris didn’t think much about the age difference. It’s amazing how mature Newt is that Chris can’t find it in him to be bothered thinking about the age difference. A part of him thinks that Newt will be offended if Chris treated him like he is someone frail in their relationship. Besides, Newt isn’t afraid to speak his mind—Chris rests easy at night because of that.

They headed back to the motel room and he let Newt shower first. When Newt exited the bathroom, he only had his pants on. Chris admired the few droplets of water that rolled down Newt’s lean and pale torso. A knock on the door got them turning to the door.

Newt sighed before picking up the shirt on the bed, putting it on before Chris opened the door. Allison didn’t wait for permission to enter, she just did. She glanced at Newt over—eyes getting stuck on the rubber that Newt’s putting on his thumb. “Do you have to wear that?” She asked.

“It’s to avoid bleeding over the strings,” Newt explained.

Allison nodded. “Just…French tuck your shirt.”

Newt’s facial expression says it clear that he didn’t know what a French tuck is. Allison walked over to him, gesturing silently if she can touch him. With a nod from Newt, she tucked one side of his shirt. Chris can’t tell if it made a huge difference from having Newt’s shirt untucked, but he thought it was better to keep his mouth shut.

“Dad,” Allison called out to him. “You should shower—we only have thirty minutes left.”

Chris grabbed his clothes and went inside the bathroom. He showered quickly—not wanting to set Cora’s eyebrows on himself. As he got out of the bathroom, he expected Newt to have left with Allison. He saw Newt looking out of the window with his fingers running over his lips, a small frown on his face.

“Nervous?” He asked as he put on his shoes.

“I just…think you should be warned about the name of the EP.” Newt turned to him as he answered Chris's inquiry. “Know that—the songs that we will be playing, the meaning of it…it is not the…it’s not the only thing that I feel for you. It’s just a part of it.”

“Oh-kay.” Chris approached him. Newt looked embarrassed and Chris can’t understand why. It shouldn’t be bad. Besides, it is not every day that someone will write a song for him or about him. He placed a hand on Newt’s hip, pulling him closer. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He kissed Newt’s forehead tenderly. Newt leaned in for a kiss on the mouth—there was no hurry and if no one knocked on their door, they would have taken their sweet time.

They met the rest at the lobby. Cora gave them one last reminder before they started making their way back to the event location. The boys and Cora headed straight backstage and they were left in the open ground.

The crowd surrounding the stage was impressive. He felt his palms get clammy—he thought he’s being ridiculous. He’s nervous for the band but turning towards Allison and Isaac, he supposes it’s only normal because they are nervous, too. On the screen, they read that the concert will start in five minutes. It was the most nerve-wracking five minutes of Chris’s life.

There was very little cheering when the boys walked onto the stage. From what Chris can see, the boys weren’t that bothered by it. They picked up their instruments, nodded at each other and Stiles started the first song.

The strum of the guitar—it was clear that it was a rock song. They started strong, catching the audience’s attention with the sound of the guitar and drumming. There was a short pause that cued in Newt’s entrance into the song.

“It’s been a long time since you fell in love.” Newt’s tone was gentle—almost seductive. “You ain’t coming out your shell, you really ain’t been yourself. Tell me what must I do?”

Frypan was on back up vocal, whispering. “Do tell, my love.”

“’Cause luckily I’m good at reading. I wouldn’t bug him, but you won’t stop chasing.” The tempo picking up a bit. “And we can dance all day around it. If you front then I’ll be bouncing. If you want it, scream and shout it, babe, before I leave you dry.” The slight scream Newt let out got the crowd cheering. Newt proceeded with singing a catchy chorus that got people nodding their heads along.

“Yeah.” Gally got up on his microphone. “Let me check my chest, my breath right quick. He ain’t never seen it in a shirt like this. He ain’t never even been impressed like this, prolly why I got him quiet on the set like—“ There was a second of complete silence before they played again. The rap was hyping up the crowd. “Like it, love it, need it bad. Take it, own it, steal it fast. Boy, stop playing, grab my ass. Why you acting like you shy? Shut it, save it, keep it pushing. Why you beating ‘round the bush? And, knowing you want all this—“ Gally meaningfully held off the last word.

Frypan went in. “Never knock it till you try.”

Gally picked up as if he never let off. “All of them hating that I have you with me. All of them saying you mad committed. Realer than you had and pretty. All that body-ody, the ass and—“ Gally stuck out his tongue and the crowd started screaming at the way he ended.

Newt picked up the chorus again. In the musical interval, Gally showcased his skill with the guitar and the audience was hooked. By the time the playing slowed down, Newt’s singing sweetly until the music faded out with a quick shred of Gally’s guitar.

It was only the first song, but it was clear that the boys managed to wake the crowd and excite them. On the screen behind them, Newt’s face was shown. There was the tiniest smirk on his face as he exchanges a look with the rest of the band.

“Good evening, everyone.” He greeted the audience and he got a loud greeting in return. “That was ‘Say So’, a song from our first EP titled ‘Mr. A’—“

“What?” He exclaimed. Allison giggled beside him and Isaac covered his amusement with coughing.

“—our band’s name is The Gladers.” Newt smiled. “I’m not going to bore you anymore. The next song…” Newt took in a deep breath and sang. “Can’t keep my hands to myself.” Stiles followed it up with a beat.

Chris tried not to gape at the words that are coming out of Newt’s mouth. The metaphorical gin and juice is a very thin metaphor. He’s very sure that everyone caught his drift.

The lyrics may be sexual, but Minho added a certain musicality to it with his violin. It got the people swaying and dancing. The simple words of the chorus can be easily followed—the crowd was singing along.

The band started slowing down, and Newt’s voice became almost a faint whisper. “Oh, I—I want it all. I want it all. I want it all. Can’t keep my hands to myself.” Newt’s pitch was rising to a belt only to be cut off with a quick statement. “I mean I could but why would I want to?” The playfulness of the song came back in full and the crowd was singing again—following his words till the last line.

The next song started with Minho on the piano and Newt. There’s an easy rhythm to it—Stiles was relaxed behind the drums but feeling the song nonetheless. It was Gally who sang the next song. “Now, let’s stop running from love, running from love. Let’s stop, my baby. Let’s stop running from us, running from us. Let’s stop, my baby.” The song made Chris reflect on how they started—how they fumbled to the beginning. “Oh, my, my, my! I die every night with you. Oh, my, my, my! Living for your every move.”

Chris couldn’t help but smile at the wordplay. Next to him, Allison and Isaac are singing along. He merely nodded his head along.

They transitioned to the next song with ease, it was more…sensual than the last one which Chris never thought was possible. Gally is still the one leading the vocal, Newt blending in his voice in the refrain of the song. In the second verse, Newt took over. “And when you leave me all alone, I’m like a stray without a home. I’m like a dog without a bone. I just want you for my own. I got to have you, babe.” The crowd’s dancing started getting risqué.

The two vocalists showcased their vocal prowess in the bridge of the song. “You got to give it all to me. I’m screaming mercy, mercy, please. Just like they say it in the song. Until the dawn, let’s Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

The crowd was cheering and clapping their hands when the song ended. It let the band pause for a bit. From the screen, the camera panned from one member to another. They were all smiling and sweating.

“Thank you, thank you,” Newt said to them. “Unfortunately, we’re at our last song.” The crowd ‘booed’, they were vocal about wanting the band’s set to not end. “Hey, we had fun—I hope you guys did, too.” Some girls from the audience ‘awwed’ at Newt’s words. God, he has them eating out of the palm of his hands and Chris is one of them.

“They were bumping uglies to your song, Newt.” Minho piped up from behind the piano. “I’m sure they had fun.” The audience laughed at that.

The next song had a more eerie feel towards it. It was as if the music was reverberating inside Chris’s chest cavity. Newt’s tone was a siren’s call. He wasn’t just singing—he was sending out a message. “You’re all I need to survive.”

Frypan sang into his microphone with effect. “Unholy, I want you to know.”

“Blind devotion.” Newt has his eyes closed. “And you’ll be my sacrifice. You say you love, oh.” Newt opened his eyes with intensity. “I worship high praises. My longing drives me crazy for you. My kingdom for your graces. I’m not gonna tell nobody. I’m not gonna tell nobody ‘bout you. I’m not gonna tell nobody ‘bout you.”

Isn’t that just what Chris feels for Newt? A love so deep it can be mistaken as worship. Hell, he wouldn’t mind worshipping Newt and commit blasphemy. Who cares if it’s a sin? Newt filled the crevices of his fucking mind—Chris has been long driven insane. He wouldn’t mind turning his back on being a hunter if it means staying with Newt. Chris will give it all up to stay with Newt when the inevitable reveal happens. And, he wants to sequester Newt somewhere safe—somewhere only he knows to protect and love and worship him.

They ended the song and the crowd was screaming for an encore. The big screen behind the boys showed them turning to look at someone from the side of the stage. Minho runs up to whoever it was and after a second or two, the teen went back on the stage with a big smile on his face. He approached Newt, whispering behind his ear then running to Stiles as Newt walk to Gally and Frypan. The crowd already knows that they got what they want.

The song started with Stiles on the drums and Minho on the violin. “Put on your war paint!” Gally sang to the microphone. The crowd was already rocking to the song and it was only the first verse. On the screen, it shows Stiles playing with all that he has—twirling the drumsticks in his hands now and then, adding tricks into the performance. The camera panned to Minho, his knees were bent slightly as his whole body move to his playing. It clued Chris in that in this song, the drums and violin was the instrument that is highlighted.

Newt stepped up to his microphone when the intensity of the song decreased just ever so slightly. Minho playing the violin with grace. “So we can take the world back from a heart attack. One maniac at a time we will take it back. You know time crawls on when you’re waiting for the song to start. So, dance alone to the beat of your heart.”

Gally took over before Newt’s falsetto come to a stop. “Hey, young blood, doesn’t it feel like our time is running out? I’m gonna change you like a remix. Then I’ll raise you like a phoenix. Wearing our vintage misery. No, I think it looked a little better on me. I’m gonna change you like a remix. Then I’ll raise you like a phoenix.”

The song’s arrangement changed after the second chorus. The bass of the drum with the violin was the only thing that can be heard along with the voices of the vocalists. “The war is won before it’s begun. Release the doves, surrender love.”

They repeated the line as the rest of the instruments join in. The crowd started jumping up and down, singing along. Gally belted the start of the last chorus—his voice suspended in the air. The screen shows Stiles threw the drumsticks in the air, catching them in his hands to twirl them before he hit the cymbals. The audience started losing their collective minds. As if it wasn’t enough, the boys changed up the tempo just a bit and Minho made his violin cry before the ended abruptly yet with a bang.

Through the crowds' cheer, Gally’s roughened voice caught everyone’s attention. “This has been the Gladers—goodnight!” The cheer just got louder as they started exiting the stage, waving bye to the audience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact; I have a list of songs that I think will work with the story. Searching for new songs also led me to Lewis Capaldi. How did I ever live my life ignorant of his beautiful songs and voice? I have 'Fade' in repeat while updating. Gah!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of growth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this at Valentine's, but I only finished Chapter 19 today. Still, happy Valentine's day. Spread all the love. I'm sending virtual hugs and kisses. Keep on smiling and enjoying the simple things in life, like coffee, damn. Coffee is the love of my life! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story! It means a lot to me and I hope we are still having fun. I am amazed at the number of explicit scenes I can write between two characters that have never shared screen time. That is a talent!
> 
> This story is not Beta'd. I do proofread it but some mistakes still get past me. Please, pardon them. On to the story...

Newt felt like he just cast the most intricate spell in his life as he got down the stage. Turning at his friends, he can tell that he isn’t the only one feeling giddy. Minho’s eyes were mere crescent lines with how big his smile is, Frypan was laughing in elation, Tommy was jumping at the balls of his feet—even Gally has an expression of joy on his face.

Cora was waiting for them backstage, her eyebrows were not furrowed for once. She gave each of them a hug. Newt’s pretty certain that for a second the circulation of his blood stopped with how tight her embrace was.

A man with ginger hair approached them, he has a guitar hanging on him. “You guys did great.” Newt took note of his accent. “I’m not sure if I could top that.”

“Oh, my God,” Tommy muttered under his breath.

“No way.” Minho sounded breathless.

Newt turned to Fry and Gally, gauging their reaction towards the man. He found it slightly eerie to see an awed expression on Gally’s face. Newt can only hypothesize that the man is somewhat famous—and here is their band staring like a bunch of morons.

“You’ll do you great,” Newt said with cheer. “You’re an amazing guitarist with an equally amazing voice.” He’s not sure, since he doesn’t know the guy but it is never wrong to shower someone with compliments.

The man’s cheeks turned the same shade as his hair. “Thank you.” A staff approached them, saying that he’s needed on the stage. “Well—uhm…I got to go.”

“Wow them!” Newt cheered as the man walked away from them. He turned back to his friends. “What the shuck, guys? You all just stared at the man—it was rude.”

“Don’t you know you that was?” Minho’s eyes were as big as saucers.

“He isn’t that big of an artist yet.” Cora sniffed haughtily. “Come on, we need to get their footage and the laptop.” They followed after her as she collected what she needed. The stage manager told them that the concert will end thirty minutes before midnight—that’s the time they can collect Tommy’s drum set.

It’s an hour and a half before they can pack their things, they decided to meet with the rest of their group and have fun. Allison gave each of them a hug just like Cora, only not as bone-crushing. Isaac and Chris stick to verbal congratulations. Though, Newt noticed Chris’s darkened gaze at him. It sent a pleasant sensation up and down his spine.

“Do we stick together or we go out in…groups?” Minho asked meaningfully—eyeing Allison’s hand intertwined with Fry’s and Isaac standing close to Gally.

“Can I trust you guys to be back in the hotel around one am?” Newt asked them.

“Of course!” Minho was the first to agree. “I can help Thomas with packing his drum set. Gally will lend me his car—you go and be young, wild, and free.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Newt.

“I am tempted to hit you.” Newt let out an exasperated sigh.

“We’ll be back in the hotel by one am,” Allison repeated in a tone of solemnity.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Gally told him and that assured Newt enough.

Newt nodded at them. “You got your own money to spend—go and do whatever you guys want.” Instead of dispersing right away, they all turned to Chris. Oh, right—adult supervision.

Chris inclined his head towards Newt’s direction. “You heard him—but Allison I expect you to behave—“

Allison let out a groan. “I know, Dad!”

“—also Frypan, I don’t want any funny business.”

“I’ll nail him to the wall if he does anything to Allison,” Newt said and Frypan was quick to nod his head. They can’t add that yet to their relationship because they haven’t cemented their hold on Allison.

“Oh, my God.” Allison rolled her eyes at them. She started dragging Frypan away.

“I’ll keep her safe!” Frypan called out to them before they were out of sight.

“That’s our cue.” Tommy piped up before turning to Minho and Cora. “Let’s see how many stuff toys we can win.” With that, they headed in a different direction.

“We’ll check out the rides.” Isaac smiled at them excitedly.

“You guys have fun.” Gally nodded at them before he started walking away with Isaac.

Newt and Chris were left standing at the edge of the gathering crowd. He sighed. “Kids—they grow up so fast.” Chris let out a full laugh at his joke. He stepped closer to the man and kissed his cheek. “I’m not really good at…crowds. Maybe we should head back to our hotel room?”

“Are you sure?” Chris asked. “We can ride the Ferris Wheel or rollercoaster.”

Newt wants to explore every fascinating thing he is seeing around him, but there are way too many things he doesn’t know yet. While he is playing up not knowing certain things, he can’t afford to look stupid either. There’s a tentative balance between the two and being in a place he had never stepped in before blurs the lines.

He reached for Chris’s hand. Newt looked down, acting shy. “I—I want to be alone with you right now.” He looked up, fluttered his eyelashes just enough, and licked his lips. He saw how Chris followed the movement. It also probably helped that Chris just listened to some of the sex songs that Newt was reminded of because of him.

“Okay.” Chris conceded. Newt kissed him chastely on the lips.

They made their way to where Chris parked his car. Newt is sure that the rest of the Pack can find their way to the hotel. They lived in the muggle world, after all, unlike him he doesn’t know how taxis work.

As Chris drives, he had a hand on Newt’s thigh. The hand was warm even over his pants. Newt covered the hand with his own.

* * *

To be wanted is a heady feeling. It sets a buzzing sensation between the skin and the muscle. It sends Chris’s entire being into overdrive.

He parked the car and they got out at a sedate pace. They weren’t in a hurry but the anticipation in the air. It wasn’t like the first time they were together, no. This time they are armed with the little knowledge they gathered from the previous intimate moments. This time Chris knows how to push for more.

Chris opened the door for both of them and let Newt enter first. As much as he wanted to push Newt up against the wall, he knows that the younger man likes being handled gently. He approached Newt from the back and started kissing his nape and the back of his ear. He placed a firm hand on Newt’s hips and pulled him close to his body—letting Newt feel his solid presence.

Newt let out a little hum as Chris tuck his hands under his chest. He let his palm rest on Newt’s flat stomach. “You were great on stage.” He whispered with a smile. “The crowd loved you.” Newt huffed a laugh. “They did—you made them sway to your voice.”

Chris let his hand wander up Newt’s body. It took him a second to find what he was looking for. He caressed Newt’s nipple with his thumb. The younger man gasped at the sensation. Chris pinched it lightly, liking the way Newt’s whole body shuddered against his.

“Do you want to shower first?” He asked Newt, stopping his administration to make the younger man turn to him. “You got sweaty on the stage.”

Newt shrugged a shoulder at him. “We’ll get sweaty anyway.”

The corners of Chris’s lips quirked at that. “Good point.” Newt cupped his cheek for a second, then slid his hands to Chris’s ears. He felt a familiar tugging at his lobe. “Why do you do that?”

“I like your ears,” Newt confessed.

Chris raised an eyebrow at that, lips finally forming a smile. “As much as you like my tattoo?” He saw Newt blush. He pulled at Chris’s ears harder and Chris took that as an opportunity to dive in for a kiss.

Newt’s lips were soft on his—not as inexperienced as before and demanding. Chris knows how Newt likes his kisses, more lips than tongue with the occasional nibbling. Chris knows the spot just under his Adam’s apple when bitten makes Newt shiver, and so he did just that.

Newt called out his name and Chris had to reconsider his choices of words. Newt isn’t a demanding little thing. No, he’s needy. He needs Chris—not Chris exactly, but his love. Newt had confessed that, not just in between the throes of passion. The younger man had looked him in the eyes and told him exactly what he needs with certainty that could match the words of fanatics.

Chris peeled off Newt’s clothes from his body, making sure to caress each patch of his that becomes exposed to his sight. Newt doesn’t like to be objectified, he wants to be adored. Chris has to problem giving just that.

A yelp escaped Newt’s mouth as Chris lifted him from the floor, carrying him to the bed like a bride. Newt covered his face, an action that says he’s getting embarrassed. “Hey, hey…” He pried Newt’s hands off his face. He placed a reassuring kiss on Newt’s lips before he straightened himself and started taking off his clothes.

Newt moves to kneel on the bed so they are face leveled. His hands moved to help Chris remove his clothes. He has to mentally remind himself not to puff his chest every time Newt sets a heated gaze on him.

Chris unfortunately had to look away from Newt to rummage the bedside drawer for a lube. He didn’t expect that he will be rooming with Newt, and he doesn’t want to mentally scar his daughter by packing a lube he owns. Yes, Allison has an idea of what he and Newt do behind closed doors but she doesn’t need physical proof that her Dad is…a virile man.

He successfully found a full bottle, but there wasn’t any condom. He was debating with himself if he could call it off but Newt piped up. He must have sense Chris’s internal debate.

Newt runs his hands over Chris’s tattooed shoulder. “We don’t need it.” Newt’s tone was a touch above a whisper, but his words we firm. He repeated it a bit louder whilst pulling at Chris. “We don’t need it.”

Chris threw the bottle of lube on the bed as he captured Newt’s lips with his. Heat is starting to pool below his navel and Newt just knows how to make his body react. He felt hands on him, one coaxing him into hardness. Chris groaned at Newt’s mouth and reciprocated. Newt mewled.

Breaking their kiss for a moment, Chris aligned their erection and wrapped his hand on both. Newt laid his head on his shoulder, panting as he used their collective pre-cum to slicken the movements of his hand. “Do you trust me?” He found himself asking because he can’t seem to help but want something carnal from Newt. He has the person he has been dreaming of and he still wants. Such is human nature, he supposes.

Newt looked up—stare at his eyes, expression blissed but eyes aware. “What is it?” Of course, Newt wouldn’t simply let Chris have free reign over his body. Newt is smarter than that, it didn’t work the first time so they are both threading carefully now.

“I want to take you from behind.” Chris breathed out, he needs to be patient with Newt. He needs to be careful with the physical aspect of their relationship.

“Like an animal.” The way Newt stated it caught Chris’s attention. The younger man was open to the idea. Maybe more than open to it, Chris tuck that information away for the moment. “Should I just…turn around and bend over?”

“If you’re open to the idea.”

Newt bit his lips for a moment before nodding. “You have to let me go—but only for a moment. Don’t…don’t go too far and always have a hand on me, please.”

Chris kissed him tenderly, a quiet promise before letting go. He held Newt’s hand as he turned around, placed his other hand on the small of his back as he bent over. Chris wanted to groan at the sight, but he kept it to a deep exhale.

He moved one hand to trace Newt’s spine, just marveling at it. He leaned forward—pressing his body against Newt as he kissed Newt’s nape and shoulder. They are still touching while he lubes up his fingers. He trailed kisses on Newt’s spine as he pressed a finger on Newt’s entrance.

Newt adjusted easily enough to two fingers. Chris needed to add more lube by the third. Once Newt was slick enough, all Chris needed to do was probe Newt’s body gently. Three fingers pressing inside and Newt was moaning out in pleasure. Chris had to close his eyes and focus on his breathing to steady himself.

He reached for the lube when he opened his eyes, squirted more on his free hand—spilling along the way. He hastily spread the liquid over his length. Chris slowly extracted his fingers from Newt. The younger man let out a needy noise as he calls out to Chris.

“Shh…” Chris leaned forward again, kissing Newt’s nape. “I’m here.” He positions the head of his erection against Newt’s entrance. “I’m here.”

He entered Newt inch by inch, both of their breaths were coming out in puffs by the time he bottomed out. He took the moment to just revel in the feeling of being inside Newt. Warm, soft insides that are gripping him tight—impossibly tight. He continued kissing Newt, small kisses here and there to assure him that Chris isn’t just fucking him.

“I’m going to move now, okay?”

“Please, Chris, please…”

He inhaled deeply before moving back, the first drag out always rips a groan out of his mouth. The first push in, Chris felt like he’s deeper inside Newt from the way the younger man sounded so wreck. By the fourth or fifth thrust, Chris noticed that Newt is rocking back. He stilled his movement just to see what would happen. Newt just…started moving on his own accord. Chris almost couldn’t believe it—if he wasn’t there seeing it, he wouldn’t have.

Chris licked his lips, rested most of his weight on one hand as he trailed the other one down to Newt’s erection. Newt yelled out his name as he once again wraps a hand around it. He whispered against the shell of Newt’s ear. “I love the way you say my name. I love the way you feel. I love you, Newt, baby…”

Chris moaned. Newt is thrusting into his hand, and piercing himself on Chris’s erection. He didn’t need to move at all. All he did was whisper sweet things to Newt and made sure Newt felt his presence. Chris bets that Newt doesn’t even know his body is moving on its own.

‘Like an animal.’ Newt’s words echoed around his skull.

Chris started moving again. The punched out sound Newt made will forever be in Chris’s memory. The familiar chanting of Chris’s name and Newt’s grip tightening around him clued in Chris that Newt is close. “I love you…I love you…” The phrase he won’t ever get tired of saying to Newt. The truth that he will never get tired of proclaiming.

The slapping of their skin, the heavy breathing, and moaning, the shaking of their muscles—it’s passion put into motion. It is love shown most viscerally. It’s dying to know you are alive.

Chris spilled inside Newt and the younger man whimpered. “So—so hot inside.” He thinks Newt doesn’t have any idea how his words can affect Chris. He felt his cock giving a valiant attempt of jetting more cum inside but alas he is spent.

He made sure Newt wouldn’t just fall on the bed face first. He gently exited Newt’s body without completely moving away. He turned Newt over so he can lie on his back—pressing a kiss on his lips along the way.

Chris settled them on the bed the right way. Newt reached out to him when he moved away to get a washcloth. He’s starting to see a pattern. There’s an inherent need in Newt to feel that he isn’t being used. It tells Chris a lot about him.

He softly assured Newt that he will be back in a matter of seconds. Chris patted Newt dry before he cleaned himself up. They scooted to one side, avoiding the wet spot on the bed. Newt laid his head on Chris’s arm and they simply cuddled till slumber took over.

A familiar ringing of a phone woke Chris up. He entangled himself from Newt to get his phone. He answered the call without checking who was calling.

‘Chris, where the hell are you?’ His sister’s voice came through and Chris is instantly sitting up on the bed. He looked back at Newt’s sleeping form and felt panic.

* * *

Isaac was certain that people were staring at them while they were having brunch. He was also fairly certain that most of those people are girls—pretty and confident girls that want to catch the band’s attention. He tried not to look back, he really did, but it felt like he has no control over his eyeballs. It is not because he is attracted to them, not at all. He just…can’t help but compare himself to them. He knows it’s futile and not even remotely sensible.

Still, soft, pretty, and not—like him.

He felt a hand on him under the table. Turning, he saw Gally looking at him with a question in his eyes. Isaac forced a smile and shook his head slightly. Can Gally also smell insecurity? Probably, or else he wouldn’t constantly worry over Isaac.

His stomach churn. He just lost his appetite. He leaned back on the chair and let go of the fork he was holding. In an attempt to get a hold of his slowly spiraling thoughts, he observed the group around him.

Frypan and Stiles were talking between bites. Minho has his phone out, scrolling and smiling now and then as he chews his food. Cora and Allison are discussing the uploading of the video. Newt was leaning ever so slightly towards Mr. Argent. There’s tension lining the shoulders of the older man and Isaac isn’t sure if Newt can see it. Their eyes meet for just a moment, it was enough for Isaac to confirm that Newt can see it, too.

The conversation over their table came to a halt when someone approached them. Isaac would like to see who would speak first because while they had been in a similar situation before, this one is still different. Unseen to normal eyes, a quick exchange was made between the original members of the pack.

“Can we help you?” Minho asked—adapting an expression of bafflement. It was almost as good as Newt’s polite inquiries that are actually leading questions.

“I’m Rachel Ebony.” She introduced herself, offered her hand to each individual on the table. They shook her hands amicable as she continued. “I’m a small-town journalist—I’m writing a paper about the performance and I was wondering if I can talk to your band, a small interview for the paper.”

Minho smiled at her, it may appear friendly but Isaac can tell that Minho didn’t like the way the journalist approached them. “What else is there to know about us? We’re just a simple band starting.”

“How about the genre of your band? The names of the members?”

“We don’t really have a genre.” Minho shrugged. “We choose the genre according to the message we want to deliver. If pop would be more suitable to relay what we want to, then we’ll play pop.”

“As for the members…” Cora piped up. “You can cite the band’s YouTube channel for your readers to find out. We’ve been conceptualizing how to introduce the members of the band to everyone.”

“Oh, and what’s your position in the band?” The journalist said the word ‘position’ that got the boys’ bristling.

“She’s our band manager,” Minho answered. Cora smiled at the journalist. Too many teeth, Isaac thought. “Our YouTube channel is The Gladers Official. If that is all, we’d like to enjoy the rest of our brunch.” It was dismissal done at its finest.

Everyone kept their mouths shut as the woman walk away. Allison was the one who spoke first and it was only when the woman was out of hearing reach. “Why did you guys let that opportunity go?” She asked in a shocked tone. “It could have been your first interview.”

“You want their first interview to be something so small and unofficial?” Cora asked rhetorically. “That woman was fishing to see if she can write something about the band, but if she thought that the band isn’t worth it—she wouldn’t bother writing even one line about them.” She took a sip of her juice. “I’ll make sure the band’s first interview is…something big, noteworthy.”

“Besides…” Minho added. “Approaching us like this is just rude.”

Isaac couldn’t help but swallow the lump in his throat because of Cora’s words. He knows that the band is becoming serious. It’s just now that he is starting to comprehend what it means.

The band may one day become famous. Isaac sat there—detach from what is happening and mentally transporting him to that day. Flashing lights, screaming fans, and a whole new world that Isaac has no place in.

Where is the feeling of inadequacy coming from? Uncertain futures? Childhood trauma? Everyday trauma? Isaac can take a pick but he knows the answer is the letter ‘D’, all of the above.

What is he going to do about it?

He turned his head to the window. People walking to and fro, unaware of the internal turmoil he is currently having. There’s almost comfort in that—no one knows how broken he is…how little he is next to Gally.

But…

Isn’t he working on it? Isn’t he growing strong each day? Isn’t he starting to become better? Would it just take a pretty face and sheltered hearts for him to lose sight?

He’s working on deserving Gally and Gally is helping him become better. He can’t ever lose sight of that. It weighs more than all of Earth’s gold.

Isaac turned back to Gally. The other teen listening to what Stiles and Fry were talking about. He tapped a finger on the back of Gally’s hand to get his attention. Gally turned to him with a raised brow.

Ever so slowly, he moved to lean forward. He made sure that everyone can see his movement. He made sure that his intentions are clear. Isaac tilted his head to the side, lips a few inches away from Gally’s. He gave the werewolf a choice.

After a second of them not moving, he pressed a kiss against Gally’s lips. A simple kiss—just their lips together. They didn’t deepen it, they didn’t move their lips—they just shared a chaste kiss.

As slowly as he leaned in, Isaac settled himself back on his seat. Just as he expected, the group’s gaze was on them. He shrugged. “Everyone’s staring, might as well give them a reason to.”

“So possessive.” Newt huffed with a smile.

Under the table, Gally squeezes his hand.

* * *

Allison noticed something odd about her Dad on their way back home. It was as if each mile back adds tension to her Dad’s shoulders. She knows Newt can see it, too, but equally perplexed as she is. Still, Newt does little things to ease the tension. When Newt reached out to hold her Dad’s hand inside the car, no one said anything about it.

They dropped off the boys, and Newt sent her Dad a look that says far too much than it should. Newt’s brown eyes looked at her Dad with love, patience, and understanding. It’s the same look that Frypan gives her when she’s having trouble comprehending certain things.

Allison thinks she and her Dad are lucky to earn that kind of expression from people that they love. She’s still trying not to compare Newt to her Mom. She’s trying not to compare her Dad’s past relationship and the current one. It’s just difficult—especially when she sees the small exchange of looks and touches between Newt and her Dad.

Ever since Newt and her Dad got together, her Dad has been happier. She sees him smile more often, and the look of grim vanished. She can also tell that Newt is encouraging them to better their father-daughter relationship. It was like Newt and Fry are both making sure that she and her Dad come to understand each other. With Frypan losing his parents at a young age, then being the sole survivor of his Pack’s massacre, she can understand why he values familial relationships as much as he does. With Newt, she knows that he’s close to his family—it’s not a bad thing if he wants the same for her.

They’re alone in the car, on their way home when she decided to speak up. “So, what’s got you…worried?” She adapted a non-confrontational tone. Her Dad might feel like he’s being interrogated if she sounded like she suspects him of something.

He glances at her for a second. In that second, Allison saw him internally debating with himself. He didn’t want to keep anything from her that much was clear. Still, Allison knows that he feels the need to protect her. Maybe if she shows him that she can be mature and understanding, he would trust her more. Well, there’s nothing wrong with trying. She certainly has nothing to lose, only to learn.

Allison gave him an excuse. “Is it a work thing?”

“Kind of.” He answered. “Your Aunt called me last night. She looked for us last night and found the house empty. I told her we’re coming home this morning—she might already be there.”

Allison nodded. “It’s been a while since we last saw her.” She tried to gauge her Dad’s reaction. “She never really visits unless it’s about the business.”

Allison never noticed it before, but with a bit more perspective she can see it now. She couldn’t help the furrowing of her brows remembering the visits. Her Aunt mostly spoke with her Mom, while Aunt Kate never looked at her the same way her Mom did—there were moments wherein she would shake her head. Back then, Allison thought it was because of fondness. Now, she’s not so sure.

“Allison, I…” Her Dad stopped himself.

He sighed and parked the car on the side of the road. He runs a hand over his face before turning to face her. She didn’t think that Aunt Kate’s visit would warrant a serious talk with her Dad, but she’s learning.

“I…never told anyone else about Newt.” Her Dad told her directly. “It’s not because I’m ashamed of Newt. It’s just that—I know that most people wouldn’t approve. Yes, Newt’s eighteen but he’s still in high school—he’s just a year older than you and people…Well, people will be people, judgmental and harsh.”

The good thing about being with Newt, she learned how to read between the lines. She nodded at her Dad, understanding what he’s trying to say without outright saying it. “I won’t tell Aunt Kate.” She assured him and she saw him exhaled deeply. “But, you should tell Newt that she’s going to be staying with us. He likes to spend his free time with you.” Then she added. “Don’t do it through text. He’d be hurt by that.”

It was her Dad’s turn to nod at her. “I’m thinking of asking him out tomorrow. I need to know how long Kate will be staying with us.”

She smiled at him reassuringly. “Sounds like a plan.”

Her Dad’s smile is smaller, but the tension on his shoulders was lessened. “Thank you, Allison.” He started the car once again.

“I’m happy that we can rely on each other.”

They reached their home and Allison saw Aunt Kate waiting for them. She got out of the car, she greeted Aunt Kate with a smile and a hug. She didn’t give anything away. This is important to her Dad. In a way, it’s important to her, too. She’s sure that if Aunt Kate doesn’t approve of Newt for her Dad, she wouldn’t approve of Newt being Allison’s friend.

“Where have you been?” Aunt Kate asked her. “Your Dad didn’t bother telling me, he just told me you’d be back this morning.”

“My friends have this band and they were invited to perform as an opening act for an artist.” She said. “I wanted to support them.”

“And your Dad came along because he just couldn’t stop being overprotective.” Aunt Kate said it with good humor, still, there was disapproval in it. It’s familiar to Allison but she can’t quite place it.

Her Dad opened the door to the house and carried their bags, along with his Aunt’s. He turned towards her. “You should go up and unpack.”

She nodded and picked up her bag. Allison made a show of walking up the stairs, she didn’t close the door of her room. She listened for footsteps—she knows that Aunt Kate and her Dad will talk in his study. From the peripheral of her sight, she saw them walk past her room.

She peeked first, making sure that they are already in the office before she made her move. Allison took off her shoes to make sure her steps would be lighter. The door was closed, she pressed her ears close to it and was momentarily envious of werewolf hearing.

‘When are you going to train her?’ Aunt Kate asked.

‘She’s a kid still.’ Her Dad insisted.

For a moment Allison thought that they are just talking about teaching her how to handle the family business.

‘We were younger when Dad started training us.’ Aunt Kate insisted. ‘She needs to be trained now.’

‘You don’t know what she needs.’

‘They’re back, you know.’ It was almost a taunt coming from her Aunt. ‘They are back and what do you think they will do once they find out about Allison?’

‘They won’t do anything to her.’ Her Dad’s tone was firm. ‘I have signed a treaty with them—nothing bad will happen to Allison.’

‘Don’t wait for Dad to force your hand, Chris. You wouldn’t like it.’

Sensing that it is the end of the conversation, Allison hurried back to her room. She has no idea who they are talking about, or what training it is they want to do to her. The only thing clear to her was that her Dad wants to protect her. She can trust her Dad to always want to do right for her.

* * *

Newt heard the midnight call but feign sleep. He heard how Chris spoke to someone over the phone with gritted teeth. He heard Chris proclaim his love even when he thinks Newt is sleeping. As much as he wanted to avoid using Legilimence on Chris, Newt knew he had to.

Kate Argent is in Beacon Hills. She didn’t exactly tell Chris why she was there. Kate deflected the man’s inquiries by being confrontational—by demanding their location. Chris was so afraid for Newt that he just told his sister that they will be back by morning.

Chris is a good man. That is a truth that Newt learned through knowing Chris, be it through conversations or Legilimence. A good man born to a father with an appetite for violence.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he wants to take Chris and just bundle him up in warmth and safety. He wants to take away the worry from Chris’s mind and tell him that no hunter will ever hurt Newt—let alone kill him. He wants Chris to lie down next to him each night to die and wake up each morning to live.

Newt’s thoughts pave the way to the realization that it’s not a game of seduction anymore. It’s not a game anymore. His foolish heart is now on the line. Idiot, he chided himself.

They dropped off Isaac, and he waited for Cora to seclude herself in the attic before sharing the new information that he has. The moment that he said the words, the Gladers fell silent. Another difficult task for Minho to do; be captured, be tortured and wait for rescue. There’s no certainty towards it because the plan hinges on if they had influenced Allison enough to tell them about the kidnapping.

There they are, talking about the inevitable pain Minho will suffer and he’s internally bemoaning the possible heartbreak he might experience. Merlin, he’s needs to get a grip. He can deal with misery. It is inconsequential compared to the end of the world.

“Any advice in dealing with Derek Hale?” Minho asked Tommy.

Tommy’s wearing a face of contemplation. Probably recalling every interaction he had with Derek Hale. “When I met Derek, he was angry—he was just a big ball of anger. He lost his first love, he lost his family because of his second, and his Uncle killed the one person he thought his last living relative.” He explained. “We have to take into account that only two of those three tragedies had happened. He might be less angry, but still wary of people that he will meet even under torture.”

“What do you suggest Minho do?” Newt asked.

“We need his trust. We need him to join our Pack so that Laura will be forced to join us, too.” Tommy continued. “I never met Laura, but I think she’d be amiable in joining us if both of her siblings trust us.”

“Why do we need them?” Gally asked. “We already have Cora for the line of succession, if that is what you are worried about.”

“We don’t need them.” Tommy clarified. “But it would look bad for Peter if he had to fight his niece and nephew.”

“The Alphas in the council might start questioning his authority over them,” Newt concluded for everyone. “We don’t know this Laura—we won’t be able to corral her into doing our bidding. We can manipulate her, but the time we’re going to spend for that can be used productively with Peter leading the council.”

“Laura is also an Alpha.” Frypan reminded them. “There’s a bigger chance that she fights us on this one.”

“Then, we try and make sure that Derek would join us.” Tommy insisted. “It will make people question Laura’s Alphahood if she lost her brother to her Uncle.”

“How do I earn Derek’s trust?” Minho asked, arms crossed and ready to play his part.

Tommy stared at Minho, gauging something in their friend that Newt has no idea what. “I earned Derek’s trust by saving his life on multiple occasions.”

“Oh, Shucks.” Minho shook his head from side to side. “That means I have to man up for him.”

“That’s such a weird way to say it,” Gally said to the side.

“What are we going to do to Laura if she does challenge Peter for Beacon Hills?” Newt asked, looking at Tommy and seeing his troubled expression.

“I’m not sure,” Tommy answered him. “I don’t know her enough to decide if we should kill her or not. I don’t want to eliminate her if she doesn’t deserve it.”

“If she does become a bigger problem than anticipated, we have to.” Minho reminded them. “We have done a lot of fucked up things—not just to people that deserve it, but to people we actually care about, too. Just because Laura Hale is important to your favorite, that doesn’t mean she gets special treatment.” He told Tommy pointedly.

Newt—he understands Minho’s perspective. The way he worded it hurts, but it doesn’t mean it is any less true. He can see Tommy struggle with the truth, but there is a level of resignation to it. Tommy will do what is needed to be done.

“We either eliminate her quietly or in a fight.” Tommy strategized. “I prefer that she be taken care of quietly.”

“Reasonable,” Gally commented. “A fight will force a divide between the Hales and you want them as united as possible.”

“How long does Minho need to be captured?” Newt’s not at all comfortable with this plan even when Minho’s not showing any sign of anxiety or fear. It’s unfair how Minho seems to have total control over himself—his emotions.

“Thirty-six hours from the time Kate tells Allison about werewolves.” Tommy decided. Minho had endured longer and they don’t plan on exhausting him at all. They just need Derek Hale’s trust, and to know how much influence they have over Allison.

“We’ll get you out right away when the allotted time is up,” Newt assured Minho.

“I have a feeling Allison will tell you guys about it,” Minho said. “She’s working on being someone that Frypan can be with even if she can’t be pack.” He stared directly at Newt. “You should also be careful because she’s learning from you. It’s subtle but it’s there.”

Newt hummed. “She’ll need it if she ever becomes the Matriarch that we can use. If not, at least we’ll be able to know her tells.” He’s hoping and all their maneuvering, manipulation, and planting of ideas inside Allison’s mind would pay off. He damns his heart, but love had bloom inside—he fears it might wither with what they have planned.

* * *

Stiles half recall Einstein’s quotation about knowledge and imagination. He stares at his hand. He knows that he can do magic. The trick Newt had thought up was useful, but Stiles knows that he can’t rely on that always. He knows that it is not the full extent of his magic. He hasn’t tapped his imagination fully.

Belief—to a scientific mind, can only be achieved with proof. To a believer, it is taking a leap of faith. To Stiles, it is the limit of his magic.

To reach the pinnacle of his strength, he needs two things; imagination and belief.

Stiles breathes out, flames wrapped his forearm and hand. With eyes open, he thought of the flame changing its color. The flame flickered, became bigger, before settling to the color that Stiles wants it to be. Red and orange being overtaken by purple and violet.

It’s a simple start, but a good one. He didn’t feel any different from using a memory. He needs to sharpen his imagination. He will dive into a research binge on how to do just that.

Stiles print out the articles relating to empowering the imagination. Most of them are tips for artists that got him wondering if he should start drawing as well. He has never been good at it. It is something he needs to think about. He will show Newt everything that he found and ask his opinion about it.

For now, he will test it on the small things. He sat on his bed, both of his hands raised with his palms up. He tilted his head to the side when an image appeared inside his head. It was clear—much clearer than when he forces himself to think about something.

Stiles held the image inside his head tightly and pushed his belief out. A swirl of wind slowly formed on his hands. His breathing stopped when he gasped. The small tornado disappeared from his hands faster than it formed. Still, it got him smiling.

There’s no doubt now that he can do it.

He was just about to try again but the ringing of his phone stopped him. Stiles read the name on the screen and his smile got wider. He answered it. “How are you doing, Alpha mine?”

‘A little bit jetlagged.’ Peter answered. ‘I just checked in to one of the hotels close to Woolworth. And you, my darling?’

Stiles hummed between his teeth. “Just playing around with my Spark—trying this and that.”

‘Is that so?’ Stiles can hear the smile on Peter’s voice. ‘Would you care to share?’

“I’d rather show you once you are back.” Stiles wonders if they would acknowledge the shift in power dynamics between the two of them soon. To be safe and consensual, they would have to.

But it would be difficult talking to Peter about it without him being taken over by the overwhelming need to make Peter submit to him. He doesn’t even know where that comes from. He never thought that he would be a dominant partner.

Then again, most of his life he felt so utterly out of control. Maybe it isn’t so farfetched that he craves control. It’s not just the control that alarms him. It is also the desire to hurt Peter—to make him scream. He has to be careful. They need to talk about it.

“Peter…” He called out to the man, but he doesn’t know how he should start that particular conversation.

‘Stiles…’ Peter’s tone was playful.

“We have to talk about us.” His voice came out more serious than he wanted it to be.

‘I don’t think over the phone is how it should be done, darling.’ Peter’s confidence didn’t waver, but Stiles knows him well enough to know that he’s afraid of what Stiles would say.

“If we talk about this while we’re together, I have a feeling that this conversation will turn sexual real quick. We need to…focus—talk about what…we’re doing.” He exhaled. “Jesus, I hexed you the last time when I already have you pinned down. I don’t want to hurt you—too much.” He confessed. “I don’t want to hurt you too much, but I do want to hurt you enough to make you feel good.”

He heard Peter’s sudden intake of breath. “Do you want that? Because I never expected how much I would want it. God, Peter…I want to make you squirm. I want to bite you and push your limit. I want to drive you insane.” After saying the last sentence, Stiles couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his mouth. “This is so unhealthy. I’m so fucked up.”

‘It’s not fucked up.’ Peter insisted. ‘It’s just…unconventional.’

“Unconventional is a nice way to put it.” Stiles sighed. “I—I need to know if you are okay with this. There needs to be…limits to what I’m allowed to do.”

He doesn’t want to think about the things he wants to do to Peter. There is too much that there might be no need for them. The thing is, he wouldn’t be as worried as he is now if he knows Peter can fight back. With his Spark, he can do anything and everything to Peter. That thought shouldn’t turn him on.

‘Stiles, my sweet darling…’ Peter sounded happy which was strange if Stiles was being honest. ‘I love what you do to me.’ His voice took a breathier sound. ‘To be owned by someone so powerful but know that once I say no, all control will be given back to me—it makes you wonder who really is in control.’

“How can you be sure that I will stop when you tell me to?”

‘This conversation is proof enough.’ Peter’s voice took a reassuring tone. ‘If you aren’t willing to respect my boundaries, you wouldn’t have asked. You just have to trust in me that I know my limits and I would voice it out in time for you to stop.’

“I trust you in knowing what you do and don’t want.” That’s true enough, Stiles thought to himself.

This is Peter he is talking to, and the werewolf has no qualm in voicing out his opinions—he knows it wouldn’t be different when it comes to this. Peter has been through a lot, he knows what it is like to lose autonomy. Peter wouldn’t let anyone have power over him unless he trusts them—or if Peter doesn’t have power over them.

It makes Stiles wonder if they are still playing a game.

* * *

A person no matter how much stronger they are than you, as long as they hold you dear in their hearts, the footing in the relationship will always be equal. Peter knows that much and he hopes that Stiles will figure it out soon. He could point it out, but a realization is valued more than comprehension. Stiles needs to come to that conclusion on his own—but that doesn’t mean that Peter wouldn’t help him.

He will encourage Stiles to exercise his control over Peter. It will better their trust in each other. It will also help Stiles in trusting himself. It will help him understand that while he has power over Peter, he will never abuse that power. Peter smiled at the thought, maybe he will come home with a…trinket for both of them.

The rest of the Alphas had arrived on Saturday afternoon. It isn’t required that they report to Peter, but they did inform him that they will be in attendance. They have Sunday to prepare for the meeting on Monday. Peter knows that he could have also taken a flight that Saturday, but he liked to be well rested come Monday morning.

Miakoda asked to meet with him that Sunday in preparation for the first meeting for the agreement between the Supernatural Werewolf Council and MACUSA. They chose a quaint little coffee shop and sat in a corner where they wouldn’t be disturbed by the coming and going of people. Seeing Miakoda’s paperwork, Peter knows that she is more than prepared. He leaned back on his chair, crossed his legs, and looked at her expectantly—she wanted to meet with him for a different reason.

“Two things.” She started. “First is my concern. These…magical community, how sure are you that they will honor this agreement once it is panned out?”

“You know that they have a werewolf—we have different control over our transformation, but when I first step foot inside the halls of Woolworth I met a werewolf of their kind.” Peter made a mental note to asked Newt how they would differentiate the two types of werewolves. “I’ve only told this to the officials, to help them in their study of our origin, when I flashed my eyes at that one particular werewolf—he welcomed me as his Alpha.” Miakoda’s eyes widen at him. “I’ve been in contact with him ever since, and he says that he’s been more at ease than he has ever been in his whole life. They want to study this further, they want to see if the magical kind of werewolves would have better control if they have a Pack and Alpha.”

“You have a theory,” Miakoda said. “I know you do.”

Peter inclined his head to the side. He had discussed his theory with Newt and Stiles. They had spent a ridiculous amount of time hunched over books, trying to poke holes in his reasoning before sending his theory to the Body for Protection of Magical Species. Unfortunately, they would need more data before his theory is approved or disproved.

“I do.” He admitted. “But, it’s still under study—along with other things that need to be studied and investigated. MACUSA had been restless since I have come forward, especially after finding out that they have been neglectful of their duties. They see us as individuals who are also magical, some think we are beneath them—but that’s not exactly new.”

Miakoda growled under her breath. “We’re coming forward for us to be treated equally, and it seems like we will be treated as second class citizens.”

“Oh, no—not at all. We have magic and can do magic even if it is only through shifting and fast healing, but the second class citizens of their community are those who are born in a magical family but can’t produce a drop of magic.” He informed her, something in Miakoda’s eyes told Peter that she’d be willing to accept them in her pack. He shook his head from side to side. “Such is the world—we can only strive to better it.” He took a sip of his drink. “What is your second concern?”

“It’s not my concern.” She said firmly. “Some Alphas are voicing out their…” She sighed when she couldn’t find the proper word. “They think you shouldn’t be mated to a Spark.”

Peter’s brows furrowed. “What?” He has no idea where that came from. Yes, Stiles had intimidated a lot of them the first time they saw him, but Stiles has been showing them that he’s not bad nor insane—a bit. He stopped himself from physical grimacing. So, it wasn’t the wisest of plays but they needed them to shut up long enough for Peter to say his piece.

Now he understands better why Stiles focused their discontent towards him. Peter can imagine what will happen to the werewolf packs if they start tearing down at him before they can even build something. Peter knows that giving Stiles the world will be difficult, but he didn’t think that most of the battle will be against stupidity.

“I don’t have control over who my wolf proclaims as a mate.” Peter reminded her. “None of us do.”

“They doubt you,” Miakoda said to him. From her tone, he can tell that even she thinks it is stupid. “They don’t think that the two of you are being genuine about your connection to each other.”

A growl is threatening to escape Peter’s throat. How dare they question him and Stiles? “The moment I met Stiles I already know that he is mine and I knew that it was only a matter of time before I become his.” He confessed.

“I know. I can see it—the older Alphas can see it. It is the young and inexperienced ones that are making an issue out of it. I know you’d want to know about this.”

Peter sighed. “I’ll talk to Stiles about this. They can doubt all they like, I don’t care as long as they don’t disrupt the negotiation for the agreement.” He paused for a moment. “I can’t believe they would stop a Spark from being together with their mate. It shows how uneducated they are—don’t they listen to their emissaries?”

Miakoda snorted through her nose. “You’d think they would.”

They both turned serious after a moment. They want the same thing and these up-starts will threaten that. They have to think of something that will keep them in line.

* * *

Newt knows what to come. He almost hates it but he does. He supposes he should find comfort in the fact that he knows how Chris’s mind works. He hummed under his breath because there is a small comfort in it. He likes the idea of knowing someone from their bare instincts to the most intricate thought in their mind.

He parked his car in front of another fancy restaurant. Chris thinks that he is a werewolf and has been breaking the barrier inside his mind—every learned prejudice. Newt acknowledges that not many people have that kind of strength in them. It is a testament to what kind of man Chris is, and how deep he feels.

Newt got out of his car and entered the restaurant. He was asked about his reservation, and he gave it to the aging woman. He didn’t like the way her expression shift ever so slightly when Newt was taken to Chris’s table. He thinks that the muggles being judgmental about the age of his lover is ridiculous. They will find his Mom’s marriage to his Dad a scandal with them being almost four decades apart.

Instead of sitting across Chris, he chose to sit next to the man. Newt placed a soft kiss just above Chris’s scruffy cheek. He did it purposely—the old hag can stuff it. Newt all but waved the woman away. Chris smiled at his antics.

Newt felt the need to defend himself. “She was being judgmental.”

Chris’s smile turned bittersweet. “A lot of people would be.”

“Not from where I was born,” Newt told him. He reached for Chris's hand over the table and squeezed it.

“Don’t you worry, though?” Chris asked. “About what your family will say?”

“My Mom and Dad have a greater age difference than us,” Newt told him. “Almost three decades—people say it was love at first sight for my Dad and my Mom found him just as strange as she is. Though, my Mom told me and my brothers when we were younger that she saw herself marrying Dad in a dream. Either way, they love each other—no one said anything about their ages because it is none of their business.” He ended haughtily.

“Do you think they will be accepting?”

“There’s no doubt about it.” Newt smiled teasingly. “Though, Lysander—my brother, might give you a tough time just for the hell of it.”

Chris’s smile became genuine once again. Newt was glad that he managed to bring that out from him. He hasn’t had the grandest time with his sister in town. The poor man doesn’t deserve half the grief he’s being given.

A waitress came up to them to take their order. Newt made Chris order for him. He’s still not used to it. He finds it silly that before the Maze, he had no qualms wasting food in Hogwarts. After the Maze, he thinks he’ll have conniption from what seemed to be an endless option for food. He hates the days wherein he can’t stomach a bite. Still, he forces it down his throat. He needs the energy and he can’t take the hurt look Fry will carry for the rest of the day.

He had read magical and muggle books about trauma and nothing seem to be helping him. How will he face his family with his mental scars glaringly obvious? He frowned at the sudden downturn of his thoughts. It is a problem that needs to be dealt with on another day. He needs to play the part of a supportive and understanding lover to Chris.

“Your family sounds lovely,” Chris commented as the waitress walk away.

“They have their moments.” He played with the fingers of Chris’s hand. “It’s Sunday, is Allison okay with having lunch alone at your house? Unless you let her spend some time with Fry?”

Chris shook his head. “Allison is with her Aunt.” He hesitated. “I—I didn’t want to leave Allison with her, but I…need to talk to you.”

“Then, talk to me.” He encourages gently.

“My sister—Kate.” There’s a barely hidden vitriol when Chris said Kate’s name. “She doesn’t know about us.”

“Reasonable.” Newt acted like he was giving Chris an out. “I haven’t told my family either. Though, I want to—we have only been together for a month, I think that’s still too early to inform the family?”

“It’s not that it’s too early for her to know.” Chris took in a deep breath. “I don’t want her to know about us.”

“Oh.” Newt breathed out, slumping of his shoulders. He cleared his throat and move to remove his hand from Chris’s. He faked misunderstanding. “That’s—I thought…never mind—“

“I don’t mean it like that.” Chris gripped his hand tighter, afraid to let go. “My family—they are not as accepting and as loving as yours.” Newt furrowed his brows at Chris—as if he’s trying to understand what Chris is saying. “My marriage was arranged.”

Ah, the confession that Newt has been waiting for. “Speak plainly for me, Chris.”

“They wouldn’t approve of us—my father most of all,” Chris admitted with resignation. The more negative matter that is pointed out to Chris, the easier it will be for him to turn his back on his family. Well, to turn his back on Kate and Gerard.

“That’s…” Newt made a show of finding the right word, only to fail and let the sentence begin and end with just one word.

He made Chris turn fully to him. Newt leaned in for a tender kiss. When he ended the kiss, Chris was looking at him with a shine in his eyes. They both kept quiet as the waitress walk back and serve them their food.

“It’s sad…” Newt said to him. “It’s sad that they wouldn’t see me try my damn best to make you happy. But, when they finally get their heads out of their asses—I’ll be happy to meet them. Then, I’ll show them that what we have…it’s just as true and beautiful as the others.”

Newt found himself wanting to mean what he just said. He wants to try his best to make their relationship work despite the beginning. He wants people to see that what they have is beautiful.

“Fuck, Newt…” Chris sniffled and cleared his throat in an attempt to tamp down the tears threatening to escape. “I love you.”

“I can’t comprehend why people will be against or hateful to those who are different from them. It doesn’t make sense to me because we’re all different—even twins are different from each other.” Newt confessed. “Maybe it’s just how I was raised.” He leaned closer to Chris, wanting to share something dear to his heart. “My grandfather has this saying; ‘there are no strange creatures, only blinkered people’. To us, I think it would be more like; ‘there are no strange lovers, only blinkered hearts’.”

“You’re incredible,” Chris told him.

Newt smiled at him. “Now, tell me what are we supposed to do while your sister is in town? I don’t mind having secret rendezvous with you. It will keep things exciting—it will certainly be an experience.”

Chris laughed at Newt making things lighter than how they appear to be. “I don’t know how long she will be staying, but she rarely stays in one place for long. She’s a frequent traveler.”

“Would you like to lie low while she’s around?” Newt asked with understanding in his voice.

“I think it would be best.”

“And, Allison?”

“I talked to her,” Chris said to him. Newt can see that Chris appreciates the concern for his daughter. “You can still come over, but it will be as her friend.”

Newt nodded at him, letting the quiet surround them. “I know I’ll still be seeing you—we can call and text each other, but…I will miss you.” He paused. “The kisses, touches—even just…being close to you. We have only been together for a month and I don’t want to ever be separated from you.”

“I will miss you, too.” Chris kissed him on his temple. “I just…I just need to keep you safe. I can’t lose you.”

“I’d like to tell you that I can take care of myself. Also, words can’t hurt me much—but I understand your protectiveness.” Newt won’t be faking misunderstanding for too long. When the time comes, he thinks he would have to fake his tears either. “You won’t ever lose me.” He wished his voice were a little less genuine when he said the last part—just for his own sanity and heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a reasonable number of people asked for the list of songs. I created a playlist on YouTube. It's the versions of the songs that inspired me. The violin solos are those that are described when Minho is playing on his own. Here it is.
> 
> [TTPbMS](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdrecuoc6k4PYIgGp8NnBRMlaYyRcZCmL)


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're flying by the seat of our pants so don't pull it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble writing Chapter 20, weird enough. Hahaha. Still a fun experience, but a hard one. I had to stop for a moment and just think about the subtexts. I wonder if it's coming across the right way. Anyway, as long as we're having fun it's cool. Thank you to everyone who took the moment to read this story. Thanks for the kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subscriptions. It means a lot.
> 
> This story is not Beta'd, but I do proofread. Please pardon the mistakes that get past me. On to the story...

Cora is learning to fight dirty and Minho couldn’t be prouder. She tried kicking him in the nuts. Minho thanked his lucky stars he has faster reflex or he would be rolling on the ground in pain. She also tried blinding him with dirt. Their sparing was put to a halt because—well, Minho has an impressive pair of lungs.

Isaac is improving under the watchful eye of Gally, but Minho knows that the improvement is not only in gun slinging. The sad thing about growing up in an abusive home is learning to be observant at a young age. With the observation skill that Isaac has, he is starting to learn how to react to his surroundings and observations. He will be a good mate for the Right Hand.

Allison is gaining perspective from Frypan, and learning how to gather and disperse information from Newt. Minho thinks this development is the most intriguing one. A lot can go wrong if Frypan and Newt commit a mistake, but if they succeed—the reward they will reap will be immeasurable.

Minho can see the potential of the three. He does not doubt that in time, they will be formidable. They need to make sure that they will be a credit to the Pack.

He said his farewell to the others as he got on his bike. He took all the shifts to check on the preserve until they are done with their task. Minho needs to be the one Derek stumbles upon in the woods.

He thought about how he’s going to play his part. He could play the part of a brave and solemn teen. He could be a snarky never give up type. He could also be himself—half-insane and aware of his strengths. He will decide once he gets a feel of the situation and Derek Hale’s personality.

Minho parked his bike inconspicuously. He grabbed his violin and started making his way towards the preserve. He took his time checking the parameter before heading to the burned-down Hale house.

He smelled them before he saw them—gun powder and metal. Minho tilted his head to the side, trying to hear. He can pick up voices, but not the conversation. There’s a sharp laugh—female then hurried footsteps that clued Minho in that someone is running.

Oh, they are toying with the creature, he realized.

Before he can decide how to proceed, he needed to make sure that whoever the hunters are after is Derek Hale. He hid well enough to not be seen while he followed the party of hunters. There are six men and one female. He would say that’s overkill, but Thomas told him that Derek managed to fight off two Berserkers—so maybe not.

The woman has long blonde hair. She stood among the men with an air of superiority. She makes sure that they know she is the one commanding them. Minho can tell that the men follow her because of the cruelty she exudes and not because of her leadership skill.

He smelled blood in the air, yet it wasn’t tainted with wolfsbane and that alarmed him. He let his line of sight follow it. Between the men holding guns, he saw a werewolf—eyes glowing blue, fangs and claws at ready. Minho can see similarities between this werewolf and Peter. It wouldn’t take a genius to know that this is Derek Hale. For a moment he wondered where Laura is.

“You and your sister shouldn’t have come back.” Kate taunted. “I would have left you alone if you stayed away. But, now that you are here…it’s time to finish what we started all those years ago.” Minho unfortunately can see the nasty smile that she’s wearing. There’s no doubt that if Derek Hale will have a nightmare, it will be featured in it.

Minho sighed. It’s time for him to go play hero—or damsel in distress? It’s difficult to ascertain which is which. At this point, it doesn’t matter.

“Hunters!” He called out before showing himself. He still has his violin in his hands. “There must have been some kind of misunderstanding. My Alpha had signed a treaty with the Hunter Family that protects the people of the land.” He spoke in clear words, making sure that Kate knows that he is not an ordinary werewolf but also not giving away his position in his pack.

Kate let out a girlish laugh, it would have worked on a brain-dead person. “Yes, I am aware of the treaty signed. This one is a feral omega.” Does she think that he’s stupid?

“Is that so?” Minho got closer to them, he faked inspecting Derek. He tilted his head to the side, acting like he’s confused. “Hunter, his eyes may glow blue—but this one is not feral.”

“Get out of here!” Derek screamed at him. “Run!”

Idiot, Minho thought, the guy is an idiot.

Minho had no choice but to tense his body as if he’s preparing to attack. He narrowed his eyes at Kate. “Hunter, I think you should leave this werewolf to my care—as per the agreement in our treaty. The Pack of the land shall provide care for werewolves who are not yet feral to stabilize them.” All those reading finally paying off.

“You don’t understand.” Kate’s wearing an expression of disapproval, but Minho can smell her barely restrained anger. He’d give her a ‘B+’ for her acting skill. “This werewolf attacked people, even if he is not feral that is enough reason to…eliminate him.”

Kudos on that faked apprehension, Minho thought. Newt is still better at acting though. “There hasn’t been any report of attacks.”

“I was the one attacked.”

“It still stands that this werewolf is not feral.” Minho can see Kate’s patience running thin. “You are allowed your retribution, Hunter, but we proceed accordingly.”

Minho approached Derek and helped him to his feet. He has an arrow sticking on his thigh. He was about to inspect the wound, letting the hunters think that he believes that they follow their code when Kate spoke up again. “What is the name of your Pack?”

Minho observed the stance of the hunters around them. He knows that shit is going down the moment he opens his mouth. “Have you not spoken with the Hunter Family of this land?” He questioned Kate. “Each hunter that passes by, or goes in to hunt a feral creature is informed of that before they are let in.” He paused for a moment. “If you do not know, that means you have trespassed. I’m going to have to report you to the Head Hunter of the Hunter Family staying here in Beacon Hills.”

Someone cocked their gun.

Minho moved quickly, he ripped the arrow out of Derek’s thigh and pushed him forward to run. Minho knows that they wouldn’t get far—that he shouldn’t get far because of their plan, but that doesn’t mean he will make it easy for Kate. Plus, it would be better if he manages to lessen the number of hunters siding with Kate.

An arrow whizzed by him, and bullets started to rain on them. Derek’s healing took a moment to kick in, making him run slower. Minho kept pace with him to show that he’s not going to leave him.

A piercing sound reached their ears. It made them falter enough for the hunters to catch up to them. Minho let out his claws. “Don’t stop running.” He ordered Derek, but he knows that the other man wouldn’t heed his warning.

Minho stood his ground, managing to avoid bullets till he is standing face to face against hunters. There was no time to make them suffer. He made the deaths of three men quick. He aimed for their throats. The spray of blood was satisfying his wolf.

“Get down!” Derek yelled at him as Minho felt something sharp latch on his skin. Soon came the electricity that got him shaking from where he was standing.

Minho gritted his teeth and didn’t let a sound escape. He fell to his knees but he didn’t lose consciousness. He looked up and saw Kate holding the device. She hummed under her breath. “You are made of stronger stuff—most werewolves would have lost consciousness by now.”

“What can I say?” Minho’s attitude showing. “I live to break expectations.”

“Let him go, Argent. I’m the one you want.” Derek called out and—really, Minho thought, he’s an idiot. There’s a new arrow on him, and this one is sticking on his shoulder. Minho’s starting to think he doesn’t know how to dodge.

“I thought you and your sister came back here to establish the Hale Pack again.” Kate started. “But, then this one spoke to me in an official capacity, yet he doesn’t know who you are.” She hummed under her breath. “My brother said that the Pack that signed a treaty with him is a Hale—that means there is another Pack in Beacon Hills. Unless your Uncle had somehow managed to become an Alpha. Two Alpha Hales, this will be interesting.” She looked at Derek with a delighted smile. Minho noticed that Derek couldn’t pull a bluff to save his life. “I can’t let this one go until I know everything I need to know about the new Hale Pack.”

Kate turned on the device again, and Minho can tell she upped the voltage. His whole body shook until he was on the ground. She laughed when she saw that Minho is still conscious through that. Minho made a mental note that Kate is on crazy bitch. She pulled out a stun stick and hit Minho right in the face making him lose consciousness.

When Minho came to, he was tied to a metal fence next to Derek. He saw Kate was at the side, scanning the items at the table. Minho saw her open his violin case. “Don’t touch that.” He told her. God, it may be cheap but Minho’s emotionally attached to that violin.

Kate turned to him with a smile. “So glad you could finally join us. Derek and I had been reminiscing.” She pulled his violin out of the case along with the bow. She ran the bow on the strings, letting a note echo around them.

“Put that back in the case.” Minho knows that he’s being irrationally protective of an object. “My violin doesn’t deserve to be played by someone soulless.” He can feel Derek’s eyes are on him.

“Is that so?” She repeated his earlier words back at him. She held the violin by the body and the neck, she kneed it in the middle—effectively breaking it in half. “Oops.”

Minho reigned in any possible outward reaction to not give her any satisfaction. He shook his head from side to side. “You miserable little thing.” He said it with sadness and was surprised to see Kate be irritated by it.

It's game on for Minho, he knows now how to proceed.

* * *

Gally watched the clock’s hands move to six. He shared a look with everyone in the room. They know that Minho has been taken. A sharp nod was exchanged. They all know what they have to do.

Thomas called his Dad and informed the Sheriff that Minho hasn’t come home yet. He also asked permission if he can stay with the Pack for the rest of the evening. The Sheriff allowed him since there is safety in numbers, they were also reminded to keep themselves safe and to call the moment they think there is trouble. Thomas implored his Dad to call him if there are any reports about animal attacks or any case that just seemed supernatural. The Sheriff agreed begrudgingly—it was enough for them.

Frypan called for Cora to join them in the living room. Once she was there, Thomas dialed Peter’s number. The phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Minho hasn’t come home yet.” Thomas was straight to the point.

Cora furrowed her brows at them. “It’s only been three hours since we last saw him—well, three hours and thirty minutes.”

“And, Minho’s routine doesn’t deviate.” Frypan pointed out.

“If it does, he informs me,” Gally added. “None of us goes anywhere without informing anyone. It’s one rule that we strictly follow. It’s one rule you will learn to follow.”

‘Do you need me to come back?’ Peter asked.

“No,” Thomas answered, voice not wavering. “We know what we need to do in case of capture. We’re just informing you in deference to your position in the Pack.”

‘I thank you for it.’ Peter didn’t sound offended. His tone still smooth and leveled. ‘I know that you are all capable. Please, keep in mind that Cora hasn’t been in any…skirmishes. It is better to leave her out of it.’

“Hey!” Cora protested.

‘No.’ This time, Peter’s tone is hard and commanding. ‘I know that you have improved greatly since training with Minho, but you have no idea yet how the rest of the Pack fight. You might only become a distraction if a fight goes down. So, you will stay put.’

“Fine,” Cora answered through gritted teeth.

‘Is there anything else I need to be informed of?’ Peter asked them.

“No, that’s about it,” Thomas said to him. “Anything else, we’ll inform you after.”

‘After? Why after?’

“Differing methods,” Thomas answered him. “I don’t like fighting over it.”

‘I trust your judgment, but we will be talking about this once I get back.’ With that, they ended the phone call.

Cora was looking at them, trying to get a sense of the situation. “What do you mean by that? Differing methods?”

“Peter will follow the rules signed in the treaty.” Newt piped up. “For us to achieve our goal, we need to show…leniency. When a fight breaks out, incapacitate and not kill—that way we can present them to the Magical court. It will show the Witches and Wizards that the threat of Hunters is real and they need to be…dealt with accordingly.”

“You sound sure of a fight.” Cora pointed out the use of the word ‘when’ and not ‘if’. Gally knows it was deliberate on Newt’s part.

“Minho knows how to speak with Hunters formally—Peter made sure of it. Minho’s absence means that they didn’t heed a word he said. They are going against the treaty and taking risks that would harm their place in their community but they don’t care.” Newt concluded. These kinds of conversations are Newt’s way of teaching Cora to think before acting.

“They think they can get away with it,” Cora added. “Or, they will make sure that they get away with it.” The realization of the danger Minho’s facing dawned on Cora. “They will kill him.”

“But, not before they try and extract information from him.” Gally knows how warring factions work. “Minho won’t say a word about us.”

“He knows how to rattle his captors,” Newt added. “Minho will play whoever it is for as long as he can. Our job is to search for him.”

Gally knows that is his cue. “The last time we saw Minho that was in school. We all know that from there, he heads to the preserve to check the parameter. Fry and I will head there tomorrow—try to catch his scent and look for clues to where we can find him or the hunters. No one will go out alone. We go out in pairs or threes.”

“Tommy and I will try magical means in looking for Minho,” Newt said.

“We should rest up for the night.” Gally half suggested and half commanded. “Staying up late worrying won’t do us any good.” That last part was said pointedly at Newt and Thomas.

The two of them don’t have constitutes of a werewolf. They will feel exhausted in the morning if they don’t rest. From Gally’s experience, exhaustion leads to mistakes, and mistakes lead to death. Minho didn’t live through the end of the world just to die in the hands of hunters.

They all went to their rooms. Gally stood at the foot of his bed, staring at the wooden bed-bench. Newt had cast an extendable charm in it to fit all the guns that Gally managed to take with him. He opened it, thinking long and hard on what gun he should take with him and if he should give others guns, too.

After what happened to Winston, Newt had…developed a distaste for guns. He will use it, but only when there is no other option. He decided that he will still hand Newt a gun. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

Skirmish—that’s the word that Peter used. Gally tried to get a feeling from his wolf. His guns never felt wrong in his hands despite him being turned into a werewolf. It seems like his wolf just sees the guns as another measure of protection for the Pack. It isn’t wrong, but Gally thought that since he’s a werewolf now he’d be more—hands-on during fights.

Gally selected easy to carry guns. He checked the condition of it, the ammunition, and put them where they can be easily grabbed. He hopes that Minho doesn’t need to stay captured for too long. Minho would never admit it, his friend’s smile may be forced more often than not—but Minho’s healing. This might hinder it.

He got on his bed—he had always disliked waiting.

* * *

Laura’s visit to her emissary was unfruitful. She was informed that their Uncle left town for another conference with other Alphas. This time, she wasn’t given any idea what about.

It led to a few days and nights that were tense. Laura wanted to find the rest of the new Hale Pack, Derek doesn’t agree to this. Laura forced him to do her bidding, going as far as using the Alpha command. Derek submitted, like he always does because Laura is all that he has. He had gotten the rest of his family killed by being an errant teenager. So far, nothing bad has ever happened to him and his sister when he obeys her commands.

Still, it didn’t mean he liked going around town with no clue as to where he can find the Pack. With no idea where to start, he decided that the safest bet would be the preserve since it’s the land every Hale Alpha had sworn to protect. Well, every Hale Alpha except his sister, he tried to shove that thought out of his mind.

Derek walked through the preserve the whole Thursday afternoon. He tried sniffing for a scent—something that points to a werewolf, but he found nothing. It could only mean that no one from the other Pack had patrolled the area, so he tried again the next day—and the day after that, then the day after that till he finally asked himself if he was looking for a member of the new Hale Pack or waiting to hear another note suspended in the air.

The stray thought got him feeling morose, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from going to the preserve to look. He’s convincing himself that he just wanted to be sure that the violinist wouldn’t come across a werewolf. That his interest doesn’t have anything to do with the expression the violinist wore after playing a desolate piece of music that resonated with him.

Derek walked around the preserve till he found his feet dragging him to the remains of his old home. He heard noises, a telltale sound of more than one footstep. It got him running in the opposite direction of the house, but a hunter managed to stick an arrow on his thigh. It wasn’t long before he was surrounded.

For a moment, there was panic, then fear—until it was mixed into the melting pot of his emotions that is dominated by anger. Still, he didn’t dare move. He was more than surprised upon hearing a familiar voice calling out to the hunters. Between the bushes and the trees, the violinist showed himself and converse with Kate formally.

The violinist is also a werewolf. The thought keeps running around Derek’s mind. He had seen the violinist’s claw while he fought off three hunters. He had seen the violinist’s eyes glow golden. Still, Derek couldn’t believe it.

They are both tied up now. There’s a steady current of electricity flowing through them. It took a while before the violinist woke up. When he did, his immediate concern was his violin. Derek doesn’t know how he should react to that—especially towards the insult that was aimed at Kate.

Kate pulled out a stun stick. She used it on the violinist. He trashed against the fence, he gritted his teeth till blood was running down his mouth, but he didn’t scream. He didn’t give Kate the pleasure.

“Let’s start with the easy questions, honey.” Kate smiled up at the violinist after electrocuting him. “What’s your name?”

“Jackie Chan.” The violinist answered.

Kate’s expression turned thunderous. She hit the violinist in the face. If it hurt, Derek wouldn’t know because of how impassive the violinist’s face is. “Wrong answer.”

“Ken Jeong.”

This time, Kate hit the violinist twice. Derek watched as the cut on his face heals. It was slowed down by the electricity flowing through them.

“I won’t stop till you give me your name.” Kate threatened him.

Derek saw the slightest uptick of the violinist’s lips. “You’ll know you’re getting to me when I start giving you Caucasian celebrity names.”

The fence shook and rattled as Kate hit the violinist over and over again. There was no sound of a pained groan. There was no outward sign if the pain is starting to become too much. Kate stopped after a few minutes. To Derek, it felt longer.

“Tell me your name.” She sneered at him.

“I wonder if this is what you always wanted to be when you were just a kid.” Derek turned his head towards the violinist. The stoic expression gave way to something softer—almost pitying. “I wonder if you wanted more in life.”

Kate took an unconscious step back. Her hand tightened around the stun stick she is holding. “This isn’t therapy hour.”

“Well, we should have more of that.” The violinist huffed a small laugh. He smiled at Kate—wry. “I always wanted to be a musician. What did you want to be?”

“None of your business.” Kate tried taking a menacing step forward. “Since you’re feeling more talkative, how about giving me your name?”

“Steven Yeun.”

“I’m going to get answers—one way or another.” With that, Kate turned her back on them and walked out.

There is a gnawing feeling below Derek’s stomach. The violinist came to his aid, and now they’re both being tortured by the woman that killed his family. Derek’s starting to think that there is a running theme in his life—Shakespeare’s tragedies have nothing on his life’s narrative.

“Why don’t you just give her your name?” Derek finds himself asking.

“The last time I was tortured, they took more than just my name.” There’s vehemence in his voice. “I’m not letting anyone take something I’m not willing to give.”

“She’s going to kill you.”

The violinist sighed. “Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.”

“Haruki Murakami.” Derek couldn’t believe what he’s hearing. How can a person just be resigned to pain and the possibility of death? Especially someone who has a dream. Shouldn’t he be fighting? Trying to escape?

The violinist turned to him with a smile. “Hey, you know your Asian.”

There’s no reason to smile—or joke. They are in a dire situation. Yet…here’s a teenager making light of their situation.

* * *

Another day has come and despite Minho’s capture, they needed to play their parts. They got ready for school, aware of how incomplete they are. They arrived at Beacon Hills High and the moment Allison’s eyes landed on them, a frown formed on her face.

Frypan walked up to her, held her hand, and squeezed it. Newt walked ahead of them, he has to inform teachers of Minho’s absence. They will make it seem as if Minho had some sort of family emergency that he needed to fly out for.

Frypan took Allison to her locker. “Minho was taken.” Allison’s head snapped towards him. He looked at her with an expression that says she shouldn’t make any alarming noise or movement. “We’re going to look for him.” He informed her. “Ally, I want you to go straight home after class—call your Dad to pick you up. I need you to stay safe.”

It wasn’t hard to fake his concern because he is concern about her—mostly about her psyche, but she didn’t need to know that. He had given his best in manipulating Allison’s mind and way of thinking. He can only hope now that whatever Kate Argent will tell Allison wouldn’t work.

“I can help to look for him.” Allison was quick to insist. He expected it.

“Even just looking for clues to find Minho would be dangerous.” He stood closer to Allison. “We have no idea where he was taken, or if whoever took him is just waiting for us to go looking to capture us, too. I know you want to help, we appreciate it but I just can’t risk you. You’re too important to me.” He placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Okay.” Allison swallowed hard. “Okay—just keep me updated.”

“I’ll text you every hour so you wouldn’t have to worry too much.”

They went to their class, each of them somber while the rest of the high school population of Beacon Hills High remain ignorant. By lunch, Fry can tell that Gally had told Isaac about Minho’s capture. The two werewolves stuck close to their romantic partners. Thomas and Newt were high on alert—he also noticed the bags lining Thomas’s eyes.

Allison pulled out her phone and texted her Dad. The reply she received got her pursing her lips. She looked up at them. “My Aunt volunteered to pick me up.”

“Something’s keeping your Dad?” Newt asked.

“He never said anything to me,” Allison told him. “Probably work thing.”

“Your Aunt’s in town?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah.” There was no cheer in her voice. Maybe everything will fall according to their plan. “She and Dad aren’t really…close.”

Newt hummed under his breath. “I got the feeling when Chris talked to me last Sunday about…not meeting for the duration of your Aunt’s stay.”

“What?” It was Isaac who exclaimed the question, but Allison also looked devastated.

Newt faked a nonchalant shrug. “He explained things to me. It’s not a big deal.” He finished his lunch. “The most important person in Chris’s life knows about us, that’s more than enough for me.”

Allison was touched by Newt’s words. “I don’t really understand our family,” Allison admitted. “Mom likes my Aunt and grandfather, but Dad tries to make sure I don’t spend too much time with them. With the way Aunt Kate talks to Dad, and how Mom used to talk to him—I think there’s a deeper reason for it. I just don’t know how to ask Dad yet.”

“Be patient with your Dad,” Newt advised her. “He’s starting to see what kind of woman you can be, but in face of threats—he keeps seeing his baby girl.”

Frypan caught how Newt referred to Victoria and Kate. Allison merely nodded. Still, from the way she easily agreed with Newt—Fry thinks that the thought of Kate being a threat will rest in Allison’s subconscious.

“I used to like Aunt Kate,” Allison confessed. “I thought she was pretty cool, you know. She wasn’t as…hard as Mom but there was still a level of expectation for me.” She shrugged. “Seeing her again—something felt off about her. I don’t know what, but there is something.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing too alarming.” Frypan smiled at her. “She is still your Aunt. It’s probably about the family business.” While Newt can set up Kate’s image as someone Allison needs to stay away from, they can’t be too obvious about it.

“I hope so.” Allison voiced out.

Their school day ended. They joined Allison as she waited for Kate. From the way Newt moved, it was obvious that he wanted to get close enough to take a peek inside Kate’s mind but the woman didn’t bother getting out of her car. Kate just honk her horn and called out for Allison.

Allison grimaced at Kate’s action. She looked apologetic. Frypan reminded her again to be safe, along with the rest of the pack. The Pack watched her get in the car with Kate and drive away before they got in their car intending to drive Isaac home.

After dropping off Isaac, they all went to the preserve. They quickly found Minho’s bike and put it at the back of the pick-up with Newt and Thomas conjuring a rope to keep it in place. Once they entered the preserve, Gally and Frypan used their noses to track Minho’s scent. They manage to follow it up to the old Hale house. From there, the scent was muddled.

“I smell gunpowder, but no traces of wolfsbane,” Frypan told them. “There’s also blood, but not Minho’s.”

“There’s a scent of polished wood,” Gally added. “I’m guessing arrows.”

“Hunters then—they weren’t here to kill, just capture. They didn’t have anything lethal on them.” Thomas concluded. He looked around, trying to find something they don’t know. “Can you guys get Minho’s scent?” Thomas asked them.

“If I move a few paces away from here, Minho’s scent disappears,” Frypan tells him. “It means he had been carried out of the preserve.”

“Move,” Newt told them as he whipped out his wand. “Appare Vestigium.” With a movement of his wand, a swirl of gold erupted and covered them before landing on the ground. Looking closer at the gold-laden soil, footprints can be seen.

“Well, that’s useful,” Thomas commented.

“Not so much without a bloody Niffler,” Newt said.

They looked at the footprints all around them. Several people entered the preserve. Minho was outnumbered.

* * *

Minho managed to get a shut-eye. He’s honestly impressed with himself. The low thrum of electricity didn’t stop him from at least napping. What’s more surprising was the lack of nightmares. Compare to WCKED’s treatment, Kate’s torture is like a spa treatment.

His initial assessment of the huntress is that she’s someone who enjoys the pain of others. That wasn’t wrong, but it’s not the only thing that makes her tick. No, she’s a person who forgot that she’s a person. She’s daddy’s perfect weapon. Minho almost feels sorry for her—almost.

Derek Hale on the other hand—the man-child is a whole another basket case of insecurity and wrong decisions. He wears guilt like it’s the newest summer trend. Minho’s tempted to just breathe through his mouth.

So, Minho will play hot and cold. He will annoy Kate, then he will throw both of them out of the loop by asking hard-hitting questions. God, he will make sure their psyches will itch by the time he is done with them. He didn’t live with Newt and Thomas and did not learn a thing.

He heard the doors open, Minho kept feigning sleep. He heard movements around him and wasn’t all surprised when water was dumped on them. He faked waking up by gulping air. He shook his head to get the water off his lashes.

Minho looked up and saw Kate. “Good morning.” He greeted her with a smile he knows annoys people.

“I see you’re quite comfortable.” Kate’s smile was fraying at the sides.

“Your hospitality leaves a lot to be desired, but—it’s better than the last torture I’ve been on.” He paused. “Or is it better? It’s hard to know when it comes to these things.”

“You’ve monopolized my attention yesterday. I think it’s time I give some of my time with Der.” Kate walked up to Derek. “He might be getting jealous.”

Minho snorts a laugh—he didn’t even need to force it.

Kate ignored him, staring up at Derek seductively. It makes Minho want to vomit inside his mouth. “Now, Derek, I’m sure there are ways I can persuade you.” She trailed her hands down Derek’s abs—which to be fair, is a wonderful set of abs but Minho knows that’s a thought for another day. Possibly never again day.

The barely concealed disgust and guilt on Derek’s face make Minho…feel. It’s not the kind of feel he likes. So, it’s time once again for him to man up because it seems like Derek can’t in the face of his once-lover and turned torturer. Talk about a colorful dating history, he thought.

It’s a good thing he knows how to draw Kate’s attention from Derek. “Are you admitting defeat, hunter?” He started in a daring tone. “You can’t crack me so you’ll be moving on to the next? That’s disappointing. I thought you had more fire in you.”

Kate backhanded him, and Minho just smiled.

“Tell me, did Daddy not pay enough attention to you so you had to work harder than everyone else? Had to prove yourself worthy, so you turned into a cruel old hag.”

Minho felt his nose break under her fist.

“Or was Daddy deprived—I mean, there has to be a reason why you target young men and teens. Sexual abuse points to that.”

“Shut up!” Kate yelled at him as she grabbed the stun stick.

Minho made a funny noise at the back of his throat. He didn’t expect it nor the all too jovial tone that took over the words that came out his mouth. “So, Daddy is deprived.”

Kate started hitting him—just hitting him. She wasn’t even maximizing the effects of it. She was blind, angry, and hitting him.

“I should just kill you.”

“You should,” Minho said with a cough. “But, you can’t. You’re not sure which pack the Hunter Family of Beacon Hills signed a treaty with. And, if you don’t eliminate every werewolf of that pack—at least those with a position, you know we will ask for retribution. Which the Hunter Family will be forced to give us—you can’t kill me and you can’t get any information from me. What are you going to do?”

“I’ll get what I need from you, don’t be such in a hurry.” Kate is still trying to appear like she has the upper hand. In a way, she does—but she’s been completely rattled by Minho. It is fairly obvious to Minho that while she had tortured a lot of tough werewolves, none of them bothered breaking her mental shields—which Minho finds stupid. In an unlevelled playing field, one shouldn’t fight evenly.

“I’ll wait with bated breath.”

Kate haughtily turned to Derek. Her tactic on him has been shattered by her tantrum. If she would continue to try and torture slash seduce him for information, it wouldn’t work. Minho’s defiance would fuel Derek’s own. Never let it be said that Minho doesn’t know how to multi-task.

She walked away from them, stopping by the level of electricity. Minho rolled his eyes. “How shucking original.” Kate viciously pulled at the level—extending the period wherein they were under a very high voltage of electricity. Minho felt his teeth clatter against each other. “I—I needed that to wake up.” Minho forced himself to say once the electricity had subsided enough for him to speak. Kate all but stump away.

“You probably shouldn’t anger her anymore,” Derek said through gritted teeth.

“Angry or not, she’s going to hurt us.” Minho pointed out the obvious. “At least with me mouthing off, she will focus on me.”

“I can handle her,” Derek said through gritted teeth.

Minho rolled his eyes. He doesn’t know if Derek’s trying to convince Minho or himself—either way, it didn’t work. “It doesn’t matter if you can or can’t. You’re in my Pack’s land, the land we swore to protect along with all the Supernatural creatures in it that need help. I’m doing my job. You can be an ungrateful brat about it and I will still do it.”

Derek has a contemplative expression on his face. Probably digesting the things that Minho said. “What’s your name?” Derek asked after a moment of silence.

Minho huffed a laugh—feeling genuine humor. “Bruce Lee.” He answered, then turned to Derek who was looking at him funnily. “There might be a listening device somewhere. I’m not taking my chances.” In a fit of insanity, he winked at the other werewolf. “Once we get out.”

“You sound so sure.”

“It’s ‘cause I am.”

* * *

It’s settling in—the realization of danger. Allison calms the wild beating of her heart. She can’t wrap her head around the vast difference of understanding that there are dangers in being a werewolf and knowing it.

She saw how worried the rest were. Gally was trying to be their pillar—trying to be strong, but he held on to Isaac a little longer, walked with him a little closer. Frypan was the same, she can tell that he wanted nothing but to take her away to safety but he can’t. Stiles looked like he hadn’t slept, and that might just be the truth. While Newt was uncharacteristically fidgety—jerky aborted movements that tell Allison that he’s on high alert.

Unlike Isaac, she hasn’t been training with them. Yes, she knows how to shoot an arrow and a little bit about how to handle a gun. But, she knows that is not enough. Right now, the best she can do to help the group is to assure them that she’s safe. She has to make sure that their focus is not divided so that they can find Minho faster.

Allison hates being helpless, but she needs to be smart. She reminded herself that this is not about her. This is something bigger than she could ever hope to comprehend. As much as she wants to help, she’s in no position to do so. She can’t think at the moment how she can help in the future, but once the dust had settled…maybe—maybe she can ask Stiles, or Newt—hell, maybe even Peter.

At her very core, Allison knows that she just can’t wait for everything to be fine and dandy before she can be with Frypan. She’s not showing that she’s a capable mate if she just leaves it all up to the Pack. No, she decided, like Isaac—she’s going to actively help even if it’s just with the smallest things.

Her Aunt unlocked the car door for her. Allison got in and tried to relax the corners of her mouth to force a smile. “I can see you are popular with the boys.” Aunt Kate commented teasingly. “Who is the lucky one?”

Allison felt the instinctual need to protect the pack. Maybe it’s her distrust towards her Aunt or the threat in the air—but she’s not sharing intimate information. “No one.” She lied easily enough. “We’re just friends.”

Aunt Kate raised an eyebrow at her, there’s disbelief written there but not because she caught the lie. “Well, they must be blind if they are not clamoring for you.”

“We met at the start of the semester.” She thought to give enough information to get Aunt Kate off her back. “We were all new kids, so we just started our clique.” Kate made a noise at the back of her throat but she didn’t say anything else. Allison had a feeling that she just said something that caused that but she wasn’t sure.

They drove back home, and once they got there—Allison got out of the car right away, calling for her Dad. Her Dad didn’t answer back, she guesses that he had to go somewhere for work. She told her Aunt that she’d be heading to her room to get some of her homework done. The moment the door of her room closed, she pulled out her phone and texted Frypan. There was a steady stream of text messages between the two of them for the next four hours.

“Hey, Allison!” Aunt Kate called out to her from the other side of her door.

Allison scrambled to pull out textbooks and notebooks before the door open. She has a notebook on her lap and a pen between her fingers. She faked a distracted expression as she looks up. “Yeah?” She can feel her heart beating against her chest. She doesn’t know why but something just doesn’t feel right about her Aunt.

“Your Dad is going to take a while.” Aunt Kate smiled her big, friendly smile. “I thought we should head out for dinner. Have girl time, you know.”

Allison wanted to protest, her girl time is with Cora—which admittedly isn’t that much girly. “There’s a dinner that serves great pie down at the main.” She suggested. She kept her tone leveled.

“Desserts before dinner—I love it!” Aunt Kate tilted her side to the side, a silent gesture that says Allison should get moving.

Allison got up from her bed, she slipped on her shoes and her coat. They were out of the house in under five minutes. Inside the car, it took Allison just three minutes to realize that they’re not taking the right route.

It must have been obvious on her face because her Aunt spoke up. “Don’t worry.” Aunt Kate told her—it didn’t help with her nerves. “I just want to show you something then we’ll be getting that pie.”

“Okay.” The word was a whisper coming from her lips.

After multiple turns on darkened streets, Aunt Kate parked the car in an abandoned warehouse. Allison took note of men carrying guns, yet greeting her Aunt with an air of respect. Cult? Allison asked herself. She glanced at the guns—it’s the same kinds that she once saw her Dad hide inside their home. He claimed it was for their protection, but Allison doesn’t know what needs to be protected inside an abandoned warehouse.

“Your Dad’s been hiding a very big secret from you, Allison.” Aunt Kate’s tone took a note of a condescending type of understanding. “He didn’t think you’re ready, but I know you are.”

Allison didn’t like the sound of that—not one bit. “What do you mean?”

The men with guns made way for them. Aunt Kate guided her to an opening just at the side of the warehouse hidden by vines. “Our family came from a long line of hunters. The skill is taught from parents to children and your Dad has been neglectful of this.”

Allison feels like she’s going to be sick. “Hunt—Hunters? What do you mean?” She has an idea and she’s praying that it is not what she thinks it is, but she’s smart enough to know.

Aunt Kate stopped from her tracks to turn to her. “It’s as the word means, we hunt. The question I’m going to answer for you is; what do we hunt?” She pushed to the side the vines, revealing a door at the end of the pathway.

Werewolves, Allison answered the question by herself. She quickly connected everything inside her head without showing anything outward. Aunt Kate has Minho, she thought. She steeled herself as Aunt—as Kate opened the door. She said to herself, it’s just Kate now.

Shaky steps, she managed to walk in. On the metal fence, she saw Minho and another werewolf secured on it. Wires were attached to their bodies, she followed its trail. It was connected to a power generator.

Her Aunt continued talking about their family—how prestigious their line is and how they are protecting the world. She spoke about how weak Allison’s Dad is for not wanting her to be a part of their hunting. And, how she should step up to her legacy. The words were barely reaching Allison’s ears because of what she’s seeing.

Minho looked up, he was bleeding—his nose was crooked. He saw her and his brows furrowed. Allison stepped behind her Kate so that Kate wouldn’t see her shaking her head—as if to answer Minho’s silent inquiry of why she was there.

Kate walked up to the generator, she leaned into it, and without saying anything she turned it on. Allison’s mouth hangs open in shock. She watched as Minho and the other werewolf writhed in agony. The other werewolf transformed, then turn back to his human look after the shock but Minho merely flashed his eyes as his claws were drawn out.

“We hunt werewolves, Allison,” Kate announced dramatically.

“A class demonstration?” Minho’s voice sounded strange because of his broken nose. “Are you also going to teach her seduction techniques for minors? Statutory Rape 101, how to bed a young werewolf to get inside information about their Pack House to burn them down.”

Allison was a bit confused by what she just heard, but she knows that Minho is referring to something Kate did.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kate said menacingly

“Oh, but I do,” Minho said with smug confidence. “I do.”

“Those Packs don’t deserve to live,” Kate said with a nonchalant air. “You are all animals.”

“I’d argue Charles Darwin’s point, but I doubt you’re smart enough to get that.” Allison wanted to tell Minho that he should stop talking, but she has a feeling what he’s saying isn’t for Kate’s benefit. “I feel so sorry for you. I feel sorry that you would drag an innocent soul to all your misdeeds. I feel sorry you would ruin your flesh and blood.”

“I have enough of your mouth!” Kate draws a blade and walked up to Minho. Allison saw how the other werewolf flinched at the knife. It clued her in that it wasn’t an ordinary knife. “Your kind are the ones that ruin people. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have to train our kids to fight.”

“Is that how your Daddy justified all the things he did to you?” Minho’s tone was one of pity.

Allison—she can see it for what it is. It makes sense now, she thought. Her Dad’s overprotectiveness. He didn’t want her to be like…Kate.

Allison watched as Kate brings the knife to Minho’s face, she dug it in slowly. The pain was written all over Minho’s face but he didn’t scream. Soon, dark lines were moving just beneath his skin.

“What did you do?” She heard herself asking.

“Electricity weakens werewolf,” Kate explained like she’s a teacher gifting Allison wisdom. “It slows down their healing. To kill one, you need wolfsbane. That is what this knife is laced with. It poisons a werewolf’s system till it stops their hearts—then dead.”

“How long does he have?” Allison can see Minho’s eyes resigned to his fate.

“Without the electricity, probably twenty-four hours. With the electricity, around sixteen.” Kate’s tone turned delighted. “This is a special type of wolfsbane, though. Let’s see how long it will take before you kick it.”

Minho smiled at Kate. “Knowing that I will die without bending to your will gives me relief.” He turned to Allison. “I will die knowing that I kept my Pack safe.”

Their eyes connect, and Kate had no idea what was exchanged between them. Allison mouthed one word to Minho that she meant full-heartedly. She saw how Minho’s eyes shine with understanding.

Allison wanted to be in a position wherein she can help. She got what she wished for—in a sick way. Now she has to think carefully about what she needs to do—think about everything the Pack had taught her about hunters and treaties. She knows she has to be smart in what she will do.

* * *

A party of hunters made their selves known before they entered Beacon Hills. Chris needed to meet with them to inform them of the treaty set in place. Usually, he would wait for the leader to come by his house while Allison is away but he doesn’t want to take his chances. Newt might head off somewhere he doesn’t know, hunters might get a feel that Newt is a werewolf and unknowingly hurt him if Chris doesn’t clear out that there’s a treaty right away.

He knows nothing about Newt’s Pack—if he has one or if he’s alone either way, the treaty will prevent hunters from gunning down every werewolf they see. Chris is not an idiot—or he’s trying to be less of one. He knows that these hunters are in Beacon Hills for his sister, Kate is the last person he expects to follow the code. He could only guess that she found a werewolf and thought it prudent to call in more hunters. Chris can only hope that he could remind these hunters that it is still his mother that is the Matriarch of their family and not Kate. As long as there has been no transfer of power, that means they have to abide by what the Matriarch believes in.

It is flimsy at best he knows.

Chris stood in front of men with barely concealed weapons on their bodies. He tried to push away the image of Newt being hunted from his mind. As long as he does his job right, he will be able to keep both Allison and Newt safe.

He told them that a treaty has been in place and there hasn’t been a single incident since he has been there. He told them that he wouldn’t tolerate blood-thirsty hunters. He reminded them that while most of the hunter community thought he was retired, that doesn’t mean he was. He laid down the law for them and he wouldn’t hesitate in making them pay if they ever cause any transgression.

Chris got home and was welcomed by Kate in the living room. She was smiling too wide for his comfort. “How many were there?” Kate asked.

God, Chris wondered if she can ever be subtle. “Why did you call them here?”

Kate rolled her eyes at him. Every inch of Chris hated the fact that she would be the next Matriarch of their family. “I saw an Omega werewolf prowling around.”

“If it is just a single Omega, then you wouldn’t need that many hunters.” Chris pointed out. “There haven’t been incidents here, Kate—everything has been quiet. Bringing that many hunters here will disrupt the peace.”

“Peace.” Kate scoffed the word. “They are just biding their time in the dark. They are waiting for when you’re most vulnerable, then they will strike. There’s no peace where there are werewolves.” They stared at each other for a moment before Kate piped up once again. “Oh, by the way, I did you a favor. You should talk to Allison.”

Chris felt his insides quake. “What did you do?”

“I told her the truth,” Kate said it with such righteousness that Chris had to take a mental step back. For all their bickering while they were young, Kate wasn’t cruel—well, she’s as cruel as any kid. But, ever since his Dad started taking her on long trips, something in Kate changed. It was like he lost his sister and the woman that is standing in front of him—she’s a hunter and a hunter is all she is.

Chris turned away from her, he took the stairs two at a time. He saw that Allison’s door is closed, he knocked and waited to be welcomed in before he pushed open the door. Inside, he saw Allison sitting up on her bed. He watched her eyes dart to the hallway for a moment and Chris got the message that he should close the door and lock it.

Allison looked up at him. She was looking intently at him—Chris can tell that she’s thinking deeply about what she should say to him. “She has two guys chained up.”

Chris had to stop mid-step upon hearing that. Allison’s voice was barely above a whisper. Chris realized that she doesn’t want Kate to hear her. He’s not sure if he wants to know what Allison could have seen to inspire that kind of fear in her. He walked closer and sat next to her on the bed.

“She was electrocuting them.” She continued. “One of them has a broken nose, he was bleeding out but he was being…difficult. A-Aunt Kate—she…she wounded him with a poisoned knife. I think he has less than twenty-four hours to live.”

“Allison—“

“It was Minho.”

Chris’s knees were starting to feel weak.

“I came to school today, wondering where he was,” Allison said. “The others told me that he’s been taken. They didn’t know who, but they are working on finding him. I know Minho, Dad, for all his teasing he wouldn’t just attack people—he’s trained by their Alpha to talk to hunters formally.”

Chris’s mind came up blank for a second before everything caught up. “How do you know that Minho was trained by the Alpha?”

“They told me, Dad,” Allison confessed. “They told me they’re werewolves. They didn’t want to keep it from me—especially Newt and Fry, because I’m Fry’s—I’m his mate, Dad. They told me to protect me.”

Chris let out a shuddering breath. Newt told Allison about the Supernatural. She’s a werewolf mate—while he has no idea what that completely entails, he has an inkling. “Protect you from what?”

“Hunters and other Supernatural.”

“Hunters?” He echoed—other Supernatural sure. Hunters, well… “What did they tell you about Hunters?”

“They said that Hunters have a code they abide by.” Allison started. “They hunt those that hunt them—I doubt Kate follows the code. Frypan said that hunters are there to protect people when the town Pack isn’t enough against a threat.”

“If that’s their definition of Hunters then why are they protecting you from them?”

Allison took in a deep breath. “This isn’t their first Pack—God, I’m not even sure if I should be telling you this. They trusted me with this—their Alpha trusted me with this. This is their second Pack because their first one was killed by hunters, they are the sole survivors of their pack and after that, they were taken to some facility and were experimented on.”

“Experimented on?” Chris was dumbfounded—and he knows even that is an understatement of what he feels at the moment.

Allison nodded. “They were experimented on for three years before they were rescued. When Newt got back to his…world…his government tasked him to—connect the two communities so that Hunters wouldn’t be able to do that to others.”

Chris barely understood what Allison said. World. Government. Communities. He had heard of werewolves creating a council. He had heard Alphas trying to broker for peace. He had never heard of a government.

“Look, Dad.” Allison’s voice was distressed but it was still as quiet as when she started talking to him. “I can’t tell you everything because that will jeopardize Newt’s safety and standing. What we need to do is tell them where they can find Minho. We need to save him.”

“I—“Chris has no idea what to say. Allison is right, but he just needs to know. “When did they told you they were werewolves?”

“The night of the formal,” Allison confessed. “Frypan wanted me to know before pursuing a relationship with me.”

“That long ago?” He was simply baffled. “Will—Was Newt going to tell me?” He was hesitant in asking the second question.

“Oh, Dad.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. He hated feeling weak in front of his daughter, but he needs to know. “Newt is a different case—he’s…someone important. He can’t just tell people that—what he is because he’s…he has a position in the government—in their government. I don’t exactly know what he has to do, but I think there’s paperwork involved.” She bit her lower lip. “God, I should have listened better when he was talking about their history.”

Chris understood enough to know that Allison can’t tell him what Newt is. He’s sure that Newt wouldn’t appreciate it if the truth didn’t come from him. There’s a lot of information that he needs to process, and a lot more information that he needs.

“Okay.” He repeated the word twice before coming up with a half-cooked plan. “Kate had called some hunters in town—“Allison looked up at him, eyes big and scared. “—I told them that there is a treaty in place. She will feel the need to meet with them. That will give us time to alert the—the others.”

“What about Minho?” Allison asked. “He’s poisoned.”

“I’ll go through Kate’s belongings and see what kind of wolfsbane she used.” He told her. “We will give that to—the others so they can heal Minho.”

Allison nodded at him before surging forward to embrace him. “Kate called you weak for following the code—she’s wrong.”

Chris can’t imagine the hateful things that Allison heard Kate say. “I didn’t want you to be a part of this. It’s so ugly—you don’t deserve to live a life of violence.”

Allison told him in an understanding voice. “Maybe it’s fate. You tried keeping hunting from me, but I still found out about werewolves. I guess I’m meant to be a part of this. It’s up to us if we will let my involvement become violent.”

She distanced herself from him. “Newt…knows people—people who are helping him make sure that there wouldn’t be unnecessary violence between creatures and hunters. He’s working on making it so. They said that Hunters are a Matriarch organization, women are the leaders because they are compassionate. If—I don’t know, I can rise through the ranks, maybe I can help them in the long run.”

Chris’s brows furrowed at what Allison is saying. “You want to be the Matriarch?”

“Yes,” Allison said with determination. “Imagine the changes we can do so that—so that Supernatural and Hunters can be together.”

Chris understands what she’s not saying. There are no rules against a Hunter being with a Supernatural, but it is looked down upon. It is considered a betrayal. Chris knows exactly what his Dad thinks about it and he wouldn’t want Allison to hear that.

“We’ll take this one step at a time.” He told Allison. “For now, we wait for Kate to leave so that we can warn the others.” Allison nodded and it was Chris’s turn to bring her in for a hug. “I’m…I’m proud of you.”

Chris can’t help but think of all the ways Allison’s introduction to Supernatural and Hunting could have gone wrong. The—Pack had unburdened him a great deal and they weren’t even aware of it. Well, they will be aware of it in a few hours. Newt will find out that Chris is a hunter. Chris can only hope that Newt hadn’t generalized all Hunters as some brutes that kill just for the heck of it. He doesn’t think he can look at Newt’s face and see hate there without getting his heartbroken.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends that look after us and calls out our BS are as precious as friends that fight for us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! (Listening to Megan Thee Stallion while updating.) The world that I am creating with this Fusion is crazy. I can't stop myself from laughing at times at how crazy it is. Still, I enjoy writing this. This is the most I have written in such a short period of time. This really exceeds the expectations I have for myself. I often thought that I wouldn't be able to write stories that are this complicated, but here I am proving myself wrong. #Growth
> 
> This Story is not Beta'd. I do proofread it but some mistakes still get past me. Please, pardon them. On to the story...

Derek can hear the violinist panting. It rattles the air in his lungs. Derek can smell the poison spreading. It makes his skin itch. Derek can see more black veins appear as time passes by. It fuels the rage in his chest.

The shiver coming from the violinist rocked the fence. There was a gasp—so soft that if Derek didn’t have enhanced hearing, he would have missed it. Then, after a second passed, a humming.

The violinist was humming a tune Derek hadn’t heard before.

“What are you…” Derek couldn’t finish the question because the answer is painfully obvious. The violinist is humming, that is what he is doing. It is nothing special. Well, given their current circumstance—Derek isn’t sure.

The violinist didn’t react to torture most werewolf would. Then again, Derek had limited experience with torture. He isn’t sure how to react. He tried being nonchalant about it—show Kate that he isn’t affected, but even the violinist saw through that and made it a point to protect Derek from torture. Now, here they are, the violinist waiting for the poison to stop his heart.

Derek couldn’t help but notice how young he is. He would guess that the violinist is still in high school. He had a bag pack the first time Derek saw him. His playful countenance also shows a level of immaturity—not too immature but it is obvious that the violinist is still a fan of teasing people. With that in mind, Derek wondered what kind of people the violinist has in his life. The people that he will leave.

“I can hear you thinking negative thoughts from where I’m chained up.” The violinist piped up. “Stop wallowing.”

“You’re dying.” Derek pointed out with a sneer. He didn’t mean to—he just…He can’t take people making light of life and death situations.

“At the moment, I am—but I won’t die. Well, at least not tonight or tomorrow—not soon.” He said with confidence. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.”

“How can I not worry?” The dam finally burst. “I’m the reason why you are here. If you hadn’t felt the need to come and help me from those hunters—“

“Oh, wow.” The violinist coughed. “Let me stop you there because that is just…You’re the reason why I’m here? Just so you know, I would have gotten in between any werewolf and hunter given the chance. I’m here because I did my job. You’re good-looking, but you are not that good-looking.” Derek wondered for a moment if the person he’s talking to is just incapable of being serious even for a minute. “Besides, do you think I can easily be swayed by a pretty face?” The violinist asked—a touch offended. “Highly unlikely.”

“You talk too much.”

“You don’t talk enough.” He countered. “God, I hate this silence.”

Derek noticed that statement was muttered, probably directed at himself than to Derek. “What’s the matter?”

“All we got is the thrum of electricity and the sound of leaking pipes.” Derek’s been aware of that. “It’s not the most appealing sounds in the world.” Another round of coughing fit took over the violinist.

Derek saw the black veins running from his cheeks to his neck. He unconsciously let out a whimper as he closed his eyes. It’s not right, he thought to himself.

“Stop worrying.” The violinist all but ordered him. “This isn’t even the worse form of torture I’ve experienced. Hell, this feels like a damn vacation.” He paused. “I do wish there’s music. Jeez, it’s only been—what? A few hours? A Day since we’ve been taken and I am missing songs. I wouldn’t mind a little Lady Gaga right now. Maybe even that Tick Tock from Kesha—“His body lurched forward but the chains kept him in place.

Derek tried to free himself from his chain. He’s afraid that this will be added to all the times he had felt so hopeless before. The chains wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he tugs at it.

The violinist hangs his head. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t hum under his breath. Derek’s ribcage is cracking open. The stillness of the figure next to him is wrong. His mind supplied him of the time he saw the violinist play—he played with his whole body. Now, he’s barely breathing.

Derek focused his hearing on the violinist’s heartbeat. It was there—steady still, but Derek knows it wouldn’t last. He wants to ease the pain the violinist is feeling, but how, he doesn’t know. An idea popped into his head.

“Why—why do you hate the silence?” He asked tentatively.

“It—“The violinist inhaled deeply. “It makes me wonder if I’m still alive.”

“What do you mean?” Derek can’t sing, and for the love of everything holy, he wouldn’t even try. But, he has a serviceable mouth—he can talk to the teen to keep the silence at bay.

“The first time I was taken.” He started. “They placed me inside a room—it was so quiet. They only let me out to drain some blood from me, then they would lock me back up. I felt so—so weak I was sure I wouldn’t last another day but then I will and they will do it all over again. They would strap me on that operating table and stick needles on me.” There was undeniable hate in his voice. “They took parts of me—liter by the liter.”

Derek was glad that the violinist wasn’t looking at him because he was sure that there was no way he could have hidden his horrified expression.

“Then, I realized that they were doing it on purpose.” He continued. “They will drain me enough to keep me compliant and weak but also enough to survive another day. They were methodological in their torture and there is no escape or reprieve. There is nothing you can offer them to make them stop. To them, I was just a refilling blood bag.”

Inside Derek, his wolf struggles not to how in pain.

* * *

The proceeding for the agreement between the Supernatural Werewolf Council and MACUSA went on as Peter expected. The Wizards and Witches were wary of the Alphas—especially of the foolish young Alphas, because of their…growly personality. It’s a good thing that the older Alphas have a level head on them. It helped that there are more experienced Alphas than newbies. Peter was sure that the proceeding would have been more difficult if newbie Alphas were the dominant ones in the talks.

Suzy Cattermole is every bit as excitable as Newt described her to be. Still, she didn’t withhold information from Peter and was supportive of their cause. Peter did his best to keep everything between them professional—it’s not hard for him, he only has eyes for his darling boy.

The progress for the agreement was slow, but it was steady. Some concessions needed to be made from both sides. Arguments can’t be avoided, but Peter, Miakoda, and Ito were quick to stop any Alpha from getting too aggressive. They wouldn’t have some silly upstart ruin something so beneficial.

The contract for the Supernatural Werewolf Council was also reviewed by the magical president. They used most rules there as the guideline in creating their agreement. Upon reaching the part wherein they are discussing the magical kind of werewolves, they find that they have very little information as to how to proceed.

Peter told them that they should place general rules about the care of magical werewolves—the treatment they should receive, the living arrangement, and the teachings. He told them that there should be an allowance for their differences. He encouraged them to revisit this part of the agreement once they have more information. He was quick to volunteer whatever information that he will have once Teddy starts living with his Pack.

There are questions about the presence of Witches and Wizards in Packs. It is decided that Witches and Wizards can ask Alphas if they are welcomed in their Packs, but if an Alpha does agree for them to join it means that he or she is going to stand as their Alpha—it means that they will treat whoever Witch or Wizard that will join as a Beta and therefore given the same rights as their Betas. In turn, any petty wrongdoings that the Witch or Wizard does against the Pack they have joined will be punished and the punishment will be overseen by the Alpha. Bigger offenses on both sides will be reviewed by Magical Law Enforcement.

They went on and on, poking holes at the agreement until the time for the meeting is up and they need to reconvene the next day. The following they, they will pick up where they left off. It went on for days until Peter received a call. He was quick to excuse himself with the reason that the call is from his Pack—from his Spark and therefore needs his undivided attention.

He’d admit to worrying after getting the call of Minho getting taken. But, the confidence in the voices of his Pack soothes his worries. He reminded himself that those boys have suffered hell and back only to come out fiercer than they were before. They will do what is needed to do and do all of it together—much like everything else they do.

“Is there any problem with your Pack, Alpha Hale?” President Quahog asked him.

“It seems that there are Hunters in Beacon Hills at the moment,” Peter informed not only the president but everyone in the room. “My emissary wanted to inform me right away, but they have the situation under control.”

“Are you certain?” President Quahog was wearing a worried expression. It made him look quite grim. “I can have an Auror escort you back. Apparating wouldn’t take up too much time, and we can reconvene the proceedings tomorrow.”

Peter shook his head. “They do have the situation under control. Stiles—my darling Spark, deems the formulation of this agreement quite important. He asked me to stay, and I shall.”

“We should also discuss your courtship with the Spark.” One of the upstart Alphas piped up.

Peter wishes for the simpler days wherein he can hide in the dark, wait for the right moment, and just slit their throats. He faked a confused expression. “Oh, what should be discussed about it?” His courtship with Stiles has nothing to do with the agreement. It shouldn’t be discussed so publicly. If there are people who he should discuss it—it would be his Pack and the Sheriff.

“We should have an equal opportunity to court the Spark.”

Peter had to turn to Miakoda to make sure that what he heard was real. Miakoda shrugged at him as if saying ‘what can you do’. Ito looked surly—she didn’t like what is being implied. “I’m sorry?” Peter turned back to the newbie Alpha. Yes, he knows that he is a newbie Alpha but he isn’t a stupid newbie Alpha.

“An equal opportunity to court the Spark.” The man repeated.

Peter stared at him for a moment. He was younger than Peter, has a shaggy look, and doesn’t bother retracting his fangs. Stiles would strip this werewolf of his ego and leave him sniveling. “That is not how a werewolf courting works.” He pointed out just so everyone will know how stupid he is. “There is no equal opportunity about it because it is only between the courter and the person they are courting. They must come to an understanding built on the potential they have as a mate. In my case—and my darling—“yes, he will rub it on everyone’s faces. “—we don’t only have the potential to be mates, we are mates. I decided to court Stiles because he is still young.”

Peter turned to President Quahog. “I’m sure you know that in the non-magical world, they consider eighteen to be the proper age for people to be in an intimate relationship with others. Stiles and I are honoring the wishes of his father.”

“Of course.” President Quahog agreed. “It is only right to respect the wishes of a father. Still, I think you should know that in the magical world, we consider seventeen to be an appropriate enough age to get married.”

“Yes, Mr. Scamander had informed me.” Peter smiled ever so slightly. “Going back to the topic at hand, I’m afraid I can’t grant you—or anyone for that matter, an equal opportunity to court the Spark.” He said the last part pointedly.

“Are you afraid of the competition, Hale?” The newbie taunted.

Peter couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “Stiles will eat you alive and spit you out. You will cower under the weight of his majesty and responsibilities, and you will fail him spectacularly.”

That irked the Alpha, he flashed his eyes on Peter and his claws are at ready. The aggression is steadily rising and Peter has to put him in place. He growled—loud enough that the walls of the meeting hall quaked. The only one who wasn’t taken aback by his presence was Ito and it could be because Peter respects her greatly.

“My courtship with Spark Stiles isn’t up for debate.” He spits out. He needs to show everyone that while he can play nice with others doesn’t mean he can’t bend them to his will. “The rules werewolf courting shall be added to the agreement in respect to any Witch or Wizard who might be a werewolf’s potential mate. Besides that, how they will handle their courtship is between them. Is that understood?” The question was directed to the Newbie Alpha. The pathetic little shit whined and nodded his head.

Across the table, President Quahog observed the exchanged closely. Peter caught his eyes and the president nodded at him approvingly. It seems like even when the Magical community hasn’t met Stiles, they are already protective of him.

* * *

Newt has a plan. It’s the plan that he ran through with the rest of the Gladers to know if it will work. He also needed their help to implant this plan.

Being with someone within a month isn’t enough time to build a lasting relationship, everyone knows that. A relationship needs to be tested. He knows the greatest ones are those that were forged under fire and pressure. The heroes of the last Wizarding war were a testament to that.

While there will be obstacles for his and Chris’s relationship in the future, he needs something big to cement what they have now. The biggest obstacle between them will not even be the fact that Chris is a Hunter and Newt is a Wizard—no, he had witnessed his parents’ marriage and there are myriad of things that can come in between spouses. Newt is just going to make it seem like the Hunter-Wizard issue is the biggest one, and if that they overcome it—it only means they can overcome anything. Chris will certainly think it that way because he dislikes being a hunter and the violence that comes with it. At the very core of the man, he’s someone soft, gentle, and caring.

Newt would have liked more time to establish their relationship—let the honeymoon phase settle before they are pulled into the ringer. But, time is a luxury they both do and don’t have—as Tommy would like to say. They’re in the past, years before doom, but the variables they have to manipulate are only months—if not weeks apart. With all of that, they are also trying to live a life.

He sighed at that thought. They’re not merely trying to live a life, they are taking the life they want to live—aggressively. Newt could only hope that when the time comes wherein he would have look back, he wouldn’t regret every bad thing he did. He doesn’t want to lie in his death bed and only utter apologies to the people that he will leave behind.

He was so sure of his plan—of why and how they should do it. He was so sure of his conviction. Now, not as much. Newt knows it’s the conflict brought about by love. No true lover will ever want to hurt their partner. He prays something true comes out from this deceit.

Newt gathers healing potions in a medical kit. He stares unseeingly at each of his carefully labeled vials. They have tested the potions on the werewolves, he had adjusted it according to their bodies. He included potions that would be effective for him and Tommy. There’s a churning just beneath his guts that he can’t shake off.

As if on cue, he felt something entering the ward that he had set in the surrounding area of their house. Two familiar presence that—unaware of how they can change how the whole world spins. In time, they might know. Until then, Newt and the others will be maneuvering them.

“It’s showtime,” Tommy called out to him from the door of the basement.

“It’s time to tuck the love away.” He muttered mostly to himself.

Tommy stared at him for a moment, he didn’t seem to be surprised by Newt’s confession. Maybe Newt isn’t as subtle as he thought he was. “Just for now.” Tommy approached him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Newt didn’t move right away. “Do you hate me for…falling? I…wasn’t supposed to.”

“We understand,” Tommy said in a soothing voice. “We don’t blame you for it, and we certainly don’t hate you for it.”

“I was mad at you—for Teresa.” He felt shame creeping at his nape.

“You were right back then. I hoped for too much in Teresa, she had me—not the same way as Peter, but she had me. I let her use me.” Tommy’s expression turned cold. “Peter has all of me, back then and right now. Still, I won’t let him use me—not when I know what’s at stake.” He paused at that. “I told him that I don’t care if I break my own heart, I will make sure that he wouldn’t ruin our plans.”

Newt found himself laughing bitterly. What a cruel lesson to learn. “Only you could do that, Tommy, and still have people falling over themselves for you.” Newt unconsciously showed insecurity of his.

“Don’t doubt your hold on Chris,” Tommy said to him. “You have him where you want him, and he will be yours, Newt. We’ll make sure of it.”

“Allison and Mr. Argent are here,” Gally called out to them. “They say they have something important to tell us.” If they were anyone else, they wouldn’t notice the slightest change in Gally’s cadence.

He stared at them for a moment—trying to center himself, trying to tuck away the love. Newt swallowed hard. He ran a hand over his head, he wished a calming draught would help but he doesn’t like the effect the potion has on him. He reminded himself that he had face greater dangers before, he can face this.

The three of them joined the rest in the living room. Cora and Frypan were sitting on the couch, Allison and Chris were standing—tension oozing from their bodies in waves. Gally chose to stand by the stairs, and Tommy sat on the armchair.

Newt faked a confused expression and threw in Chris’s direction. He didn’t want to, but he needed to—Newt used Legilimence. He threaded the familiar path of Chris’s psyche. Twists and turns, until he found what he needs.

“What are you doing here?” He asked them.

Chris looked down to the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest protectively. Shame and fear mixed. It’s funny to Newt, he feels the same.

Allison stepped forward. “I know where Minho is.” She’s eager to help them. They have successfully influenced the next Matriarch.

Now, Newt needs to make sure Chris is just equally enthralled—if not more.

* * *

There were moments of lucidity. It was what Minho hated second to the silence. In those moments, he’s aware—so utterly aware of how hopeless and defeated he was.

He can’t remember the number of times he wished he was back in the Maze. He can never believe that he thought that the Maze was better than that four walls. Inside the Maze, he can run—find a way to escape, find a way for a reprieve. Inside that hollow room, there’s none of that. The only certainty was that he will be taken away from the room for another session of blood draining.

The nightmare they induced was only number three on the list of things he hates about WCKED. He hates that they know him enough to use what he fears against him. Running through concrete walls, no exit, and him being paralyzed long enough for the Griever to catch up. The way they made his heart pump and pulse raise to get those juicy chemicals that they need.

Minho knows that the reason why his blood is the second most effective as a cure is that because he came from the union of a werewolf and a human but wasn’t a Supernatural. He doesn’t have accelerated healing like werewolves that made it impossible for the scientists to test their blood, but he has an enhanced immune system because of his father’s blood.

There are few werewolf-human unions that births to humans due to the dominant nature of a werewolf’s blood. While they are not ostracized within the Pack, there is still that unspoken expectation that they will receive the bite at a certain point in their lives. Minho thought that he will take the bite after college when he’s sure that he wouldn’t need to go away from family and Pack. Well, everyone knows how his plans got upturned.

Minho let the rattling cough take over him. His whole body shaking the metal fence. The thrum of electricity reminds him of an EDM song along with the dripping of the pipes. His mind is too clouded to remember the lyrics.

He stopped the pained groan that threatens to escape his throat. He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let anyone hear his hurt sounds. He had done enough screaming for a lifetime.

WCKED took so much from him. They took his family, his pack, his freedom, his blood, his voice, and his sanity. He doesn’t want anyone to take anything from him anymore. This time—he will be the one doing the taking.

His wolf whimpers inside his mind—hurt by the wolfsbane that Kate poisoned him with. In his mind’s eye, he curls himself around his wolf, a comforting gesture. They may be in pain now, but they both know that it wouldn’t last.

Minho’s inhaled was labored—it’s not just the broken nose that’s making it hard for him to breathe. His lungs feel inflamed. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the poison is a fast-acting one. With his healing being hindered by the electricity and the broken nose, he supposes that he will be vomiting black goo within five hours.

He’s confident that he will get out—Allison will tell the rest of the Pack. He just wishes that they get there before he starts vomiting. He’s not a fan.

Minho ever so slowly became aware of another sound inside the torture room. There’s a steady cadence to it. The voice was almost coaxing but soothing. He wondered for a moment why it seemed coaxing. He remembered—his moment of weakness, his admittance of pain and hate…then, darkness.

He passed out, he came to conclude. And now, he’s coming to. He hummed under his breath, telling his torture mate that he’s back to the land of the living. Still, the voice didn’t stop talking.

“Romans, countrymen, and lovers!”

The voice—no, not the voice, Minho said to himself. Derek Hale. Derek Hale, he repeated the name inside his mind.

“Hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honor, and have respect for mine honor, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar’s, to him I say, that Brutus’ love to Caesar was no less than his.” He paused for a breath.

“If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer; ‘Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I love Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honor for his valor; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who us here so rude that would not be a roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.” Another pause, but this time Minho vaguely knows it’s part of the play.

“Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated wherein he was worthy, nor his offenses enforced, for which he suffered death.

“Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Anthony: who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart—that, as I slew my best lower for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.”

At the end of the monologue, Minho finally found it in him to speak. “That is fucking depressing, but I kind of get Brutus, you know? What is one person to a hundred? But at the same time, I can’t imagine myself betraying my friends. Kill people for the sake of peace, yeah—sure, I’ll be there on the dot. Kill my friends for the sake of peace, Nah—there must be a different way out of this. You know what I mean?”

“You’re so weird,” Derek muttered.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Minho teased. “Anyway, as much as I love Shakespeare and good ol’ Brutus McStabus—but, why are you doing a monologue?”

There was a pregnant pause before Derek speak up. “You were moaning in your sleep. You stop whenever I try to talk to you, but you weren’t answering. So, I figured the—silence was bothering you even when asleep. I just…”

Minho’s wolf sent an emotion through him, it’s an emotion that Minho would rather not look deeper into. “Aw, hell. Aren’t you a sweetheart?” He turned to see Derek glaring daggers at him—pun totally intended. Minho found himself smiling. “No, really—I appreciate it. Now, Mark Anthony. God, I love how sarcastic he is.”

* * *

“How do you know where Minho is?” They have talked about how they are going to play out the reveal. Gally would be the bad cop, Tommy will be the good cop, and Newt would be the torn-up victim.

It’s a good play, it will make Chris extra protective over Newt. The hunter will feel guilty and he would then spend all his life trying to make up to Newt for the things that he didn’t do. Gally—for all that he says he’s not a fantast, asks himself if Newt will be willing to exchange love for guilt. He doesn’t think so.

“My Aunt…” Allison started in an unsure tone. “Kate—she’s a hunter.”

The tension in the room soar through the roof. Cora looked at them with wide, fear-filled eyes. Frypan’s expression became closed off. Stiles became stoic within a split second. Newt—his eyes moved from Allison to Chris, playing his part.

Gally decided that he would go along with the plan for the moment. He needs to see how Chris will react, and if the plan needs to be intercepted—well, he has to qualms calling klunk if he sees it. “Argent.” Gally spat the name then turned to Newt. “The Argent family line are the ones that started the hunt for werewolves. How did you not know this—“

“I did my research.” Newt defended himself. “Yes, there’s a Katherine Argent but I saw no evidence that she’s related to anyone from the owner Argent International. Do you even have any idea how many people carry that family name—“

“And, not all of them are hunters?” Gally faked incredulousness.

“No, you’d be surprised to know that most of them live an average life,” Newt said to him. “Not everyone who has the last name Lee is a bloody werewolf. We can’t operate on the assumption that everyone with the same last name is one or the other—that’s dangerous thinking.”

“It was written that Katherine Argent has a brother.” Thomas cut through their fake argument. Newt opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. He let out a shaky breath and Chris took a step forward to comfort him, but Thomas got in between them. “Allison said ‘Aunt Kate’ which means Chris…” he let the sentence hang in the air unfinished.

Gally watched Chris closely. He felt sorry for the man, Chris is all torn up—it shows and Gally’s sure that all the werewolves in the room can smell it. “She’s my sister,” Chris admitted quietly.

“And, you’re a hunter.” The words came from Newt’s mouth, he sounded betrayed.

“I am.” Chris looked at him with shame.

Shame—Gally thought. Chris Argent is ashamed for merely existing. Jesus, they’re doing a number on the man’s psyche. This plan is tearing Chris down. Yes, he will be Newt’s but he wouldn’t be the same person that Newt liked to begin with. He needs to do something before Newt ruins the man he loves without even realizing it.

Gally really hates the desperation that was injected into their personalities inside the Maze and strengthened during the end of the world. It clouds their judgment at times. Makes it hard to know when enough is enough.

Cora growled, but she didn’t pounce. “Where is Minho?”

“Please.” Allison was on the verge of tears. “Dad didn’t know—he didn’t know that Aunt—that Kate took Minho! I only knew because she wanted me to know about our family. Dad tried to…he tried to shield me away from it. Believe me, listen to my heart—I’m not lying.”

“You may not be lying.” Gally pointed out. “But, your Dad may be. I don’t want to be the villain in this group, but…”

Chris couldn’t tear his gaze away from Newt. Gally can hear his heart speeding up, there’s fear in the air—along with desolation. Turning away from the hunter, he focused on Newt. The wizard is not as resolute as he thought he appeared to be. It means that Newt is aware of what might happen after but still went with it because he just wants Chris to never leave him.

Gally wants someone who would choose him, he has Isaac and he’s wanting for Isaac to choose him over his abusive father. Frypan wants someone like Brenda but would choose him over Thomas. Thomas wants someone who he can use but never leave him. What Newt wants is a little harder to figure out because his trauma isn’t all that obvious to Gally.

He furrowed his eyebrows. Gally decides to just fuck it. “Newt.” He called out before they could even continue with their script. “Let’s take ten.”

Newt’s eyes were wide at him, asking him why he is going off-script. Thomas is looking at him in contemplation. While Frypan seemed to have caught on to what he has in mind.

Gally’s not going to let Newt make a mistake that would cause him too much without realizing it. He turned to Thomas. “Debrief Allison of what she knows. Ask Mr. Argent what he wants to achieve by coming here. I need to have a word with Newt. We’ll be in the backyard.” He turned to Chris. “If you try and hurt them, I will blind you—and know that the only reason I won’t kill you is that I don’t want to orphan Allison.” With that, he ushered Newt to the backyard.

Without even prompting Newt, the wizard placed a silencing spell around them. He’s looking at Gally intently. “You didn’t follow the plan.”

“It’s for your own good.” He paused. “You and Thomas—the two of you enable each other so much it’s a damn wonder how we get klunk done. Look, if you keep pushing Chris is going to break. He will be yours, but he will be broken. I don’t think you’ll love him anymore if he’s a shell of the man you fell in love with.”

“He’s not like Isaac—“

“Isn’t he?” Gally cut him off. “Father prone to violence and isn’t free to be themselves.” He let the words sink in before continuing. “Instead of pushing, pull him in. Instead of breaking him down, built him up. Ruin breeds ruin—just look at how we lay waste to anyone who tried to break us. Examine that against the loyalty we have for each other, the lengths we would go to because we raised each other.” He paused. “You let fear and desperation lead you to this plan. Think, Newt, you’re smarter than this.”

Newt let out a soft sob. Gally felt like an ass for making him cry, but he’s relieved that he got through Newt. They have come a long way, he supposes. He reached out to embrace Newt.

“Do you remember why you were Alby’s second?” Gally asked, and Newt shook his head. “You calm the Greenies down, get them settled in the Glade, then you look for a job that will help them grow into themselves.” He’s starting to feel the tears seep through his shirt. “You built people up, and if you continue tearing Chris down—you’ll wake up one day hating the fact that you tied him to you broken, and hate yourself, too.”

“Okay,” Newt said in between sobs. “I’ll pull—I’ll build him up. I’ll make him someone worthy of the Scamander name.”

Gally found himself laughing at that. The shank just confessed that he’d pretty much marry the hunter. What an idiot, he thought to himself.

* * *

Following Gally’s lead, Stiles lead them to the kitchen. They sat on the dining chair opposite each other. Though, Cora chooses to stand by the counter. She has a frown on her face and has her arms crossed.

Chris kept an eye out on Gally and Newt while listening to Allison tell the rest about her encounter with Minho. At first, the two teens were standing face to face—Gally leads the conversation. When Newt tried opening his mouth, he was cut off. He watched as Newt let himself cry—Chris wanted nothing more than to get up, head out, and comfort him.

“There was someone else with Minho. Whoever that person was, he wasn’t as…talkative as Minho.” Allison said to Stiles and Stiles snorted a laugh at that. Chris brought his attention back to the discussion in front of him.

“Of course, he would mouth off. He’s a shank.” Stiles said.

“Kate didn’t like him mouthing off.” Allison swallowed hard. “She cut his cheek using a knife that’s laced with wolfsbane. She said that—with him tied to the electrical fence, Minho would have less than sixteen hours before the poison stops his heart.”

Frypan rubs the heels of his hands on his eyes. “Do you remember when that was?”

“That was three hours ago.”

“Great,” Stiles said dryly. “We have less than thirteen hours to come up with a rescue plan.”

“I can take you where they are.” Allison was quick to volunteer.

“No,” Frypan said. “You already said that the hunters there are armed heavily, you leading us there will put you in danger because there’s no way they won’t be shooting at us the moment we get there.”

Chris is glad that he isn’t the only one worried about Allison’s well-being. Maybe if there’s more of them that would, she’d be more careful. He’s proud that Allison is growing up, but that doesn’t stop him from wishing to keep her safe. He thinks that being a father, he will always want her safe.

“But, she’s the one who knows where Minho is.” Cora pointed out. “We need her to take us there.”

The argument was put on a pause as Gally and Newt walk back into the house. Chris can see tear tracks on Newt’s face. Gally’s shoulder is damp. Chris has a bad feeling about their conversation.

Cora growled beneath her breath. Not liking Newt’s state. Chris deserves the nasty look she threw at him. He could have done something if he was just honest with Newt, but he’s too damn selfish. Now, everything is falling apart.

“What we need is Allison’s memory of how to get there.” Newt’s voice was low. “But…”

“Newt, I’m ready to help—whatever way I can,” Allison said in a determined voice.

“You’re a minor.” Newt pointed out. “That’s the only reason I manage to tell you what I am—any contract signed by a minor is not legally binding, but if I perform…anything on you I will need a guardian’s consent. And since Chris is a…mundane, he will need to sign a life binding contract to assure my…people that he will keep what I am a secret. I—I didn’t want him to risk his life for my secret, Allison.” Newt sniffled. “I was looking for another way to tell him.”

That made Chris breathe easier. Newt was planning on telling Chris what he is, he just hasn’t found a way to. Newt wanted him in his life—this is confirmation enough. Chris can’t—won’t let it be otherwise.

“So, the choices are—Minho’s life, Allison’s life, or Chris’s life.” Stiles piped up once again. “That’s not much of a choice.”

Chris is tired of merely listening to the conversation. “Life binding contract—what does that mean?” He asked Newt. He watched as the younger man wrapped his arms around himself.

“It’s as it states.” Newt started. “It is a contract that binds a person’s life to a deal or a secret. If they break confidence, they will die.”

“I can keep a secret,” Chris said. “I’ve been keeping one my whole life.”

A fresh set of tears roll down Newt’s eyes, but he nodded. “I’ll get the contract.” He turned to Frypan. “Get the pensive and perhaps something to ease headaches. I’ve never tried this on a mundane before, Allison might get a headache.”

“Get Katherine Argent’s files, too,” Stiles told him. “It’s time—I think.” Newt left with a nod. Looks were exchanged all around. “We’re going to…do this with some sense of formality, and as it dictates I need to introduce myself.” He paused. “I am Spark Stiles Stilinski, the Hale Pack Emissary of Beacon Hills and the Guardian of the Beacon Hills Nemeton.”

Chris couldn’t contain the startled reaction of his body. Stiles is a Spark and a guardian of a Nemeton. The differing name now makes sense, he has a feeling that ‘Stiles’ isn’t even his real name. His gut is telling him that something big is going to happen.

“Head Hunter Christopher Argent of the Argent Hunter Family line.” He tilted his head to the side, gesturing to Allison. “Allison Argent, second in line to be Heiress of the Argent Hunter Family.” He heard his daughter let out a gasp.

He saw Stiles’s brows rise high on his forehead. “Allison’s second in line to be the matriarch? And, she didn’t know about your family? I…that’s crazy man.”

“Galileo Rossmore.” Gally introduced himself. “The Hale Pack Right Hand of Beacon Hills.” He gestured to Frypan when he returned with some sort of a silver disc in his hand. “Sigmund Lewis, Hale Pack Beta of Beacon Hills.” Then to Cora. “Cora Hale, Heiress of the Hale Pack of Beacon Hills.”

“Why do you introduce yourself like that?” Chris asked them. “You specify the place.”

Stiles glance at Cora for a moment before answering. “At the moment, there are two Hale Alphas. We’re not sure where Laura Hale is, though—so, we make it a point to be specific.”

Newt entered the kitchen, carrying a stack of folders. He placed it on the dining table. Chris is a bit intimidated by the number of folders. “Formalities?” Newt asked Stiles, and Stiles nodded at him. Newt sighed heavily before placing a contract—made of parchment he noticed, in front of Chris. “You will need to read that and sign before I can tell you what I am and what I do.”

Chris noticed the feather—no, quill. Newt is holding a quill. Chris’s curiosity is going overdrive. He looked down and started reading the contract. It seems pretty straightforward with very little wiggle room. His life is forfeited if he breaks confidence, he draws his hand towards Newt, reaching for the quill. He’s not going to break Newt’s confidence, nor his heart or anything else.

He signed his name and looked up at Newt. He took in Newt’s red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained cheek, and nervous expression. He watches as Newt rolls his shoulders back. The simple action made steadied Newt. Despite his appearance, Chris saw Newt change—right in front of him. Nervousness was gone out the window, Newt sat in front of him with professional confidence and air of authority.

Chris tried to stop himself from sucking in the air too loudly. Newt is beautiful at all moments of the day. Now though, he’s powerful.

“Newton Xenophilius Ulf Scamander,” Newt stated his name in a way that is a touch arrogant. Chris has a feeling that people know Newt and he mostly doesn’t need to introduce himself. “I am a Wizard—the liaison of the British Ministry of Magic and Magical Congress of the United States of America with the Supernatural Werewolf Council and other sentient Supernatural creatures.”

Chris took in every word that Newt uttered. British Ministry. Congress of United States of America. Supernatural Werewolf Council. Supernatural Creatures. Magic. Magic. Magic.

“Magic?” He echoed in question.

Instead of answering him, Newt produced a stick—no, a wand. An honest to God wand. Newt whispered a word and all the light in the room dashed towards the tip of his wand—collecting the light and making their surroundings dark. “Magic,” Newt confirmed and he sent the light spreading through the room again, illuminating the whole house once again.

If they weren’t surrounded by people, Chris would have reached across the damn table and kissed Newt desperately on the mouth. He saw Frypan cough on his hands. Cora rolled her eyes at him. Gally has an eyebrow raised. Stiles was watching the werewolves’ reaction with interest. Allison looked confused. Newt’s lips quirked, though.

“Do you need a moment to take this all in?” Newt asked him.

“Uh—no, I’m good.” Chris cleared his throat, so much for being the head hunter of their family.

“I’m glad that your relationship will last the night—miraculously.” Cora voiced out. “But, can we go back to finding Minho? Tortured, poisoned, and seem to not have any self-preservation Minho.”

“Newt, present them with the guardian’s consent?” Stiles said.

Newt nodded and grabbed a new piece of parchment from the folders. He turned to Frypan for a moment. “Let it be.” Upon hearing that, Frypan let go of the disc-like object he was holding and Chris watch it float.

He didn’t notice how he made a funny little noise at the back of his throat.

“That is a Pensieve.” Newt started. “It will help us view someone’s memory—but before we do that, we will need to extract the memory from the mind. I’ve done the procedure several times on myself, I’ve experienced no ill-side effect. Since Allison is a muggle—it’s what we call a non-magical individual in Britain, she might experience a minor headache but I have potions ready for that.”

Chris couldn’t help the incredulous experience on his face when he heard the word potion. Newt spoke with a sense of professionalism that made Chris feel like they’re just doing a check-up at the doctor’s office.

“If you want to see my license or qualifications to make sure that I am skilled to do this procedure, I can present them to you, too.”

He doesn’t know if seeing Newt’s license or qualification would help or not. It’s not like he will understand what is written there. “Can you do it to me before doing it to Allison?” He asked instead.

“Yes,” Newt answered simply. “All you have to do is think about the memory and I’ll do the rest.”

“Should we do it here?” Chris tapped his palm on the dining table. He’s about dive into the unknown. He will be at Newt’s mercy, but then again he had always been—so there’s no change there.

“You should be comfortable.” Newt got up from his seat and Chris followed after. “It would be better if you’re settled on the sofa.”

Chris watched as the pensive float to where Newt. He saw Cora’s amused expression, his face must have done something. He sat on the sofa and looked up at Newt—trying not to focus on the way his hands move up and down the freaking wand. He reminded himself of the dire situation they are in—Minho’s poisoned and in need of a rescue. He has no time to think about Newt’s hands and fingers on the wand. It didn’t help that Newt placed the wand in between his lips, as he used his hands to open a box with vials in them.

“Fair warning,” Newt said as he opens up a vial. “This will taste bad.” Chris took it from his hand and took a tentative sniff of its content. It sure smells bad, he thought to himself. “Just take a sip for now—a precaution in case it might hurt too much.”

Chris took in a deep breath before taking a sip. He fought back a gag, but he let out a disgusted groan. “Worse than sewer water.” He heard him say. Allison made a disgusted face that says she doesn’t want to know how he can make the difference.

“Now, think of a memory you wouldn’t mind being stored away,” Newt told him as he sat on the coffee table and face Chris.

He can’t use his memories of hunting. He can’t use his memories of training. He can probably use a memory that doesn’t mean anything to him, but—it feels wrong. Newt will be using magic on him and Chris doesn’t want that to be wasted on memories that are not noteworthy.

There are very few memories he wants to preserve, and all of them are intimate. “You won’t let anyone else see them?” He asked.

“Not without your permission.”

“Okay.” Chris inhaled deeply, thinking of the first time their lips connected. “I’m ready.” He closed his eyes.

Newt placed the tip of his want on his temple. He whispered a word that Chris doesn’t understand. Chris felt a sensation similar to being pulled by inertia. He gasped because after the pulling sensation came in a float-like sensation. Chris felt like he was soared into the clouds and landed on feather pillows. He wanted to feel that way forever.

“Chris…Chris…”

Someone groaned.

“Open your eyes, love.”

Chris knows who owns that voice.

“Come on, you can do it. You can open those blues for me.”

Blearily, Chris opened his eyes. Newt’s concerned face was the first thing he saw. He let out a relieved noise and three words stumbled out of his mouth.

“I know.” Newt soothed him. “Keep your eyes open. That’s good.” Newt was holding a vial to his mouth. “Now, drink—come on, love—drink, and the pain will go away.”

Chris was vaguely aware that he opens his mouth, but the bad-tasting potion was enough to remind him of his reality. This time, he couldn’t fight down the gag. Newt tapped his wand on Chris’s chest and he managed to swallow the vile liquid. Chris let out a breath and slump on the sofa.

Slowly, his senses sharpen once again. He blinked and noticed that Newt is now kneeling on the floor in front of him, worrying his lips between his teeth. “There…there wasn’t any pain.” He said to Newt.

Newt hummed. “I’ve always been good at precision work.” He seemed pleased that Chris wasn’t hurt. Chris smiled at that. “How do you feel?”

“It is like—like I am high.”

“High?” Newt echoed.

Chris has a feeling Newt doesn’t have any experience with any hallucinogens. “Huffing weed?” Isn’t that the term teens use these days? Stiles made a funny noise from where he was standing. Did Chris said that out loud?

“You did. You know what it’s like to get high?” Allison asked.

“Part of the hunter training,” Chris said. “It’s like—twelve steps program of hunting. First, you are tied to a chair, then you go through kinds of stuff and things till you get high.”

“You huff weed as part of training?” Frypan sounded like a concerned father.

Chris feels a little strange. “Not huffing weed exactly. We’re just exposed to different kinds of hallucinogens to build up immunity.” Newt was focusing intently on him with furrowed brows. “I feel—light…float like—as if I can fly away.”

“I think he’s loopy from the pain-relieving potion.” Gally put in his two cents.

Chris’s smile just became bigger as he set his eyes on Newt. His precious, precious Newt. “You’re adorable.”

“How do you know? He’s always like that.” Cora said. “Sappy as all hell.”

Newt started rummaging through his kit as he mutters under his breath.

* * *

Stiles doesn’t know what Gally and Newt talked about in the backyard, but whatever it is, he can tell that it helped Newt. Ever since Chris had talked to Newt about laying low, his friend had been a bit on edge. It was as if Newt was just waiting for something bad to happen. In a way, they are—and Newt was apprehensive if they’d make it out of the tunnel intact.

It wasn’t like Newt to be all doom and gloom. While Newt has never been the most positive Gladers, he still had hope inside of him that everything will go their way. Stiles thinks about everything that they have been through. He decided that Newt deserves his doom and gloom days, they just have to be there to pick up his mood.

Stiles watched as Newt make Chris another vial of potion. He would have laughed at his friend’s predicament if they weren’t such in a time constraint. They fixed up Chris—the man’s face was red once the side-effects cleared away, he signed the consent with a little suggestion on Newt to take it easy on the pain-relieving potion. Stiles made mental note of how a single dosage could affect a muggle.

They sat Allison on the sofa. She has Frypan holding her hand as she calms herself down. She made a quip about getting high with her Dad. Cora snorted a laugh. Newt promised not to make her take the rest of the pain-relieving potion until he is certain she is in pain.

Newt readied himself. Allison inhaled deeply and exhaled as she closed her eyes. Newt placed the tip of his wand on her temple and pulled. A silvery-white substance was caught as Newt twisted his wand. Newt’s movement was quick as he transfers it into the pensive. He crouched down in front of Allison, waited for her to open her eyes.

Allison blinked her eyes open with wonder on her face. “Wow.” She breathed out. “That—felt good. I get how Dad got high after the pain-relieving potion, even without it I feel strangely light.”

“That’s…good?” Newt didn’t sound sure.

“Better than writhing in pain,” Gally said and Stiles has to agree with that.

“We have the memory, now we have to plan.” Stiles reminded them all. “Gally, do your thing—Frypan, help him. Newt and I will explain things to Mr. A and Allison. Cora, you should come with us because you need to learn.”

“So, just stuck my head in and watch?” Gally asked as he rests his hands on the rim of the pensive.

“Just stuck your head in and watch,” Newt told him with a nod before he and Stiles—along with Cora, Allison and Chris, head back to the dining room where the files are.

“So…” Stiles let them settled around the table before opening up the discussion. They will have to act equally naïve and knowledgeable to be able to set their preferred Matriarch on the seat of power. “You said Allison is second in line—who is the first?” He asked Chris.

There was a barely contained winced. “The next in line would be my sister—Kate.”

Cora grumbled under her breath but didn’t say anything else.

“We’re going to have a problem with that.” Stiles opened a file. “We opened up an investigation concerning the Hale House Fire, it turns out that it wasn’t an accident—nor was it an isolated incident.” He turned it towards Chris so he can see. “There have been several cases concerning Pack houses being burned to the ground with the werewolf pack inside them. These are just the couple of cases that we’ve collected.” He paused. “We know better than to accuse hunters right away, but Forensic saw a line of ash around the house.” He showed a picture of a line of mountain ash. “That’s when we started getting suspicious.”

“With werewolf healing…” Chris’s mind works fast. “…the whole house could have burned down around them and werewolves could still live. This is…this isn’t right.”

“During earlier cases, there are some werewolves that survive the fire—but after a few months, their bodies are found. It is either declared a suicide or an animal attack—not all of them are dead, but enough to look into.” Newt added as he showed a picture to Chris and Allison. Newt muttered an apology when Allison gasped at how gruesome the image is. “There was a change in the number of survivors after the Hale House Fire. They are fewer—sometimes, none at all. Some that do survive…well, they mostly spend the rest of their lives inside the walls of a muggle hospital. We started digging—trying to find out what changed.”

Stiles picked up where Newt left off. “Forensic found a new substance in the Hale Fire that has been consistently found in the following house fires. It quickens the spread of the fire, and after close examination—we saw that it weakened the werewolves inside the house.”

Chris looked up at them. “Okay, this is definitely a work of a hunter—but how is Kate related to this?” The two can tell that Chris is only waiting for them to come up with the evidence of Kate’s involvement. It’s just years of covering up for his sister that’s stopping Chris from saying anything incriminating.

“We tried tracking movements of the hunter community—we all see how that went,” Stiles said meaningfully, highlighting their faked mistake about Chris’s and Allison’s identity. “Following people according to their last name is just—impossible without the proper resources.”

“While I have my government’s backing, investigating this many people is just—“Newt sighed. He ran a hand over his hair. “Let’s just go with what Tommy said.”

“So, we changed tactics—instead of tracking every hunter movement, we tried looking for people who entered the cities and towns of the werewolf packs the year their houses were burned down.” Stiles pulled out a thicker folder and handed it to Chris. “One face keeps popping up—different last names, different variations of the first name ‘Kate’, but same face.”

Chris opened the folder, flipping through the pages to read the information about the cover Kate is using for the different cities and towns she visited.

“She would always pose as someone with a background in education.” Stiles pointed out. “Substitute teachers, tutors, or TA’s. We tried to make sense of why her covers have always something to do with schools, the significance of it. We found out that most of the werewolf packs that were murdered have pack members that are in high school.” Stiles watched as Chris’s complexion paled. “We had someone ask survivors about it, they found out that she has been in—uhm…romantic and intimate relationships with the younger member of the packs that were killed.”

“The survivors stated that she…” Newt hesitated.

“Tell me.” Chris urged him.

Newt cleared his throat, donning on a more professional tone. “According to the investigator, her MO is that she will target the younger werewolves, engage them in a relationship with her, and then ask them about their packs—every single detail that she needs to…do her task. Since we don’t have any way to ask hunter families if this is a sanctioned…mission we will proceed with taking this information to my government so that she will be brought to justice.”

“Minho mentioned something about that,” Allison added. “When he was mouthing off, he said that Kate took me there to teach me how to—how to seduce…I didn’t understand at first, now it’s clear.” She took in a shaky breath.

Cora moves to take a closer look at Kate’s picture. Stiles saw the moment she recalled her face. “I—I recognize her.” That got Allison and Chris’s attention. “She tutored Derek—I don’t remember the subject, but I remember Derek asking Mom to go out during Saturdays to meet up with her. Sometimes, Derek would stay late at school and he’d tell us that he was with her.” Cora swallowed hard. “Derek was…he was fifteen—Oh, god…what if she got to them that’s why we don’t know where he and Laura are?”

Stiles shook his head. “If Derek and Laura are dead, then the Hale Alpha Spark would have been passed on to you. They’re alive, Cora. We just have to find them.”

Chris’s expression became clear the moment he put the pieces together. “Could it be that the other werewolf with Minho is Cora’s brother?”

Stiles sighed. “It…makes sense—it follows her MO in going after the survivors, too. Maybe that’s why Derek and Laura have been hard to find.” Cora’s face shows that she’s afraid to hope, but she is anyway.

There was a terrified silence that followed. It was Allison who broke it. “How are you going to bring this forward to the magical government?”

“At first I thought that Peter can come forward and ask for assistance in dealing with the hunters.” Newt started. “But, after a meeting with the head of all the departments along with the president of MACUSA, we found out that the Supernatural had always been a part of the Magical. It’s just…the hunting forced both to hide and in hiding one forgot about the other.”

Newt continued. “During the meeting, we found out that the Supernatural Werewolves has an agreement with the Magical government from the early eighteenth hundred—the Hale Family is part of that agreement. Katherine Argent—along with her associates will be prosecuted in the magical court, and shall be sentenced according to the old agreement—unless a new agreement has already been signed.”

“Isn’t the agreement why Peter isn’t here now?” Allison asked.

“True,” Stiles answered easily enough. “He’s in New York negotiating a new agreement with MACUSA because the old agreement only has—like, nine werewolf packs. I’m not privy to share how many packs there are in the Supernatural Werewolf Council—or any information for that matter, just know that the renegotiation is needed.”

Gally walked into the kitchen with a pen and pad at hand, Frypan was close to him. “I managed to write down the street, and description of the warehouse.” He has sweat clinging to his forehead. Stiles can tell that he didn’t like what he saw in the memory. “Allison saw about six hunters standing guard in the outside. Kate led her to a back entrance of some sort, it didn’t let me have a look at what is going on inside the warehouse. Suffice to say, we need to be prepared for a fight.”

“I can call my Dad and ask for a map—or a blueprint of the warehouse,” Stiles said. “I can also ask him to stand guard for Cora and Allison.”

“I don’t need a guard.” Cora snarled at him.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes, you do.” He didn’t raise his voice but there was enough power in it for her to back down. “The two of you are heiresses of important families. I’m not leaving you two alone with a threat hanging over our heads.”

“The four of us heading out to rescue Minho. Again.” Gally commented. “Makes me feel nostalgic.”

Frypan snorted a laugh. “So, two werewolves and two magic users.” He commented. “That doesn’t seem so bad of an odd.”

“There were five of us against a whole organization.” Newt reminded them. “I say we have better odds this time. Plus, we’re more experienced.”

“Rough plan.” Stiles clasped his hands. “We go in guns-blazing—courtesy of Gally, werewolves on offense, and we magic users in defense. Incapacitate—not kill, they need to face the consequences of their action—especially Kate—“

“Where are we going to hold them?” Gally asked.

“Inside the case,” Newt said—he wasn’t happy about it, but it is the logical course. “I can set up a cell for them. Then, add a few charms that will make it difficult for them to escape.”

“Once we have them bound, we look for Minho and the other werewolf.” Stiles continued like he wasn’t interrupted. “Allison said Minho was poisoned, so we better bring a kit.”

“I have the kind of wolfsbane that Kate used.” Chris piped up once again. He reached inside his pocket and produce three bullets. He placed it on top of the table.

Newt grabbed one and waved his wand. With a flicker, he dismantled the bullet and saw the powdered wolfsbane. He was quick to add protection for the werewolves around him. An Accio let a tin come flying at him. He secured the wolfsbane and thank Chris.

“A treaty has been signed. Although, I know you won’t be acting upon it—I want to come with you. I want to be present when you apprehend my sis—Kate.” Chris cleared his throat. “You said Kate will be prosecuted, does that mean we will be allowed to be present during the proceedings?”

“That’s where my job gets more complicated,” Newt said. “The Hunter Community knows about the Supernatural, mostly hunting them. I know that it started as a way to protect muggles, but…we can see that there has been—“Newt sighed. “I can’t say that it’s an abuse of power since you are not part of the government—magical or muggle. There’s a lot to unpack here and truth be told, the choices are the Hunter Community with either be welcomed to the fold—gain backing from the muggle government or be Obliviated—that means all memories of Supernatural will be erased from their minds.”

“What do you mean gain backing from muggle government?” Chris asked. “Are you saying that the government knows about you? About magic?”

“We wouldn’t have existed this long if they didn’t know about us,” Newt informed him. “The two…worlds are just kept separate because history had shown that muggles tend to react strongly when presented with something—different and strange.”

“We need to put a pause on your discussion about governments and others.” Stiles cut through their discussion. “As for your presence during apprehending Kate and her band of merry hunters, as the Hale Pack Emissary, I welcome you—but you will listen to Gally. He’s our…uhm…battle leader?” He looked up at Gally, silently asking if the title is fine with him.

Gally glanced at the wall clock. “We’ve been talking long enough. It’s time to act.” He took on a commanding voice. “Call the Sheriff.” With that, he started making his way upstairs.

Stiles shoved his hand in his pocket for his phone. He knows that his Dad will worry for them. But, the old man deserves to know and needs to be ready. They need to do their jobs.

Looking around as he waited for the call to be answered, he noticed Allison wearing a contemplative expression on her face. They have influenced her enough to tell them about Minho. Now that she knows she can be a person with significant authority, they will know if they have successfully changed her perspective in the coming weeks and months.

Stiles couldn’t help but ask himself if they are close to saving the world.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you guys think?


End file.
